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Children's  Tabernacle 


THE 


CHILDBEDS  TABEEE"ACLE 


c?. 


HAOT)-WOM  AM)  flEAET-WOEK. 


BY 


A.  L.  O.  E. 

XOTROSXaS   OF    "THE  LOST  JEMTEL,"   "THE  GIANT-KLLLEB,' 
««Trna  XOUNG  PXLGILQI,"  ETC.,   ETC. 


ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS, 
530  Beoad-way. 

1875. 


PEEFAOE. 


)HILE  I  was  engaged  in  writing  the 
following  brief  work,  again  ajid 
yty$i  again  the  question  arose  in  my 
mind,  "Can  I  make  subjects  so 
deep  and  difficult  really  interesting 
and  intelligible  to  the  young  ?  The  import- 
ance of  reading  Old  Testament  types  in  the 
light  thrown  on  them  by  the  Gospel  cannot, 
indeed,  be  overrated,  especially  in  these 
perilous  times ;  but  can  a  child  be  taught 
fchus  to  read  them  ?" 

The  attempt  thus  to  teach  is  made  in  the 
following    pages ;    and    I  would    earnestly 

request  parents  and  teachers  not  merely  to 

15) 


6  PEEFACE. 


place  the  little  volume  in  the  hands  of  child- 
ren as  a  prettily-illustrated  story-book,  but 
to  read  it  with  them,  prepared  to  answer 
questions  and  to  solve  difficulties.  Sunday 
books  should  supplement,  not  take  the  place 
of,  oral  instruction.  A  writer  may  give 
earnest  thought  and  labor  to  the  endeavor 
to  make  religious  subjects  interesting  to  the 
young ;  but  what  influence  has  the  silent 
page  compared  with  that  of  a  father  express- 
ing his  own  settled  convictions,  or  that  of  a 
mother  who  has  the  power  to  speak  at  once 
to  the  head  and  the  heart  ? 

A.  L.  O.  E. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGH 
L   "WANTING  Woek. 9 

IL  The  Tabeenacle 27 

1IL  The  Cuetains 37 

IV.  Pbectous  Things .  49 

V.  Peepaeation 59 

VI  Types 76 

Vil.  Deawn  Aside. 89 

VHI  Saceifices 102 

IX.    CONCEALMENT 113 

X.  Dead  Faith  and  Living  Faith 121 

XT.  Lepeosy 136 

XH.  Naasian 149 

XIII.  The  Twins 158 

XIV.  Woek 173 


8  CONTENTS. 

XV.  Different  Motives 186 

XVI.  The  High-Priest 201 

XVIL  The  Birthday  Gifts 215 

XVHL  The  Arrival 225 

XIX.  Disappointment 239 

XX.  Confession 250 

XXI.  Conclusion 260 

SHORT  STORIES,  BY  THE   SAME   AUTHOR. 

The  Bear 271 

The  Tiger-Cub. 281 

Not  one  too  Many 292 

The  Iron  King.  . 303 

The  III  Wind. 313 


THE 


CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


I. 

Wanting  SKork. 


'OTJ  have  no  right  to  spoil  my  desk, 
*jj^)   you  tiresome,  mischievous  boy !" 
"  I've  not  spoilt  it,  Agnes  ;  I've 
only  ornamented  it   by  carving 
that  little  pattern  all  round." 

"I  don't  call  that  carving,  nor  orna- 
menting neither!"  cried  Agnes,  in  an 
angry  voice  ;  "  you've  nicked  it  all  round 
with  your  knife,  you've  spoilt  my  nice 
little  desk,  and  I'll  "—  What  threat  Ag- 
nes might  have  added  remains  unknown, 

'9) 


10  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


for  her  sentence  was  broken  by  a  violent 
fit  of  coughing,  whoop  after  whoop — a  fit 
partly  brought  on  by  her  passion. 

"  What  is  all  this,  my  children  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Temple,  drawn  into  the  room  called 
the  study  by  the  noise'  of  the  quarrel 
between  her  son  and  her  eldest  daughter. 

Lucius,  a  boy  more  than  twelve  years  of 
age,  and  therefore  a  great  deal  too  old  to 
have  made  so  foolish  a  use  of  his  knife, 
stood  with  a  vexed  expression  on  his  face, 
looking  at  his  poor  sister,  who,  in  the 
violence  of  her  distressing  cough,  had  to 
grasp  the  table  to  keep  herself  from  fall- 
ing ;  Amy,  her  kind  younger  sister,  had 
run  to  support  her ;  while  Dora  and  little 
Elsie,  who  had  both  the  same  complaint, 
though  in  a  milder  form  than  their  Lister, 
coughed  with  her  in  chorus. 


WANTING  WORK.  11 


Mrs.  Temple's  care  was  first  directed  to 
helping  her  poor  sick  daughter.  Agnes, 
as  well  as  her  three  sisters,  had  caught  the 
whooping-cough  from  their  brother  Lucius 
who  had  brought  it  from  school.  It  was 
several  minutes  before  the  room  was 
quiet  enough  for  conversation ;  but  when 
Agnes,  flushed  and  trembling,  with  her 
eyes  red  and  tearful  from  coughing,  had 
sunk  on  an  arm-chair  relieved  for  a  time, 
Mrs.  Temple  was  able  to  turn  her  atten- 
tion to  what  had  been  the  cause  of  dispute. 
A  rosewood  desk  lay  on  the  table,  and 
round  the  upper  edge  of  this  desk  Lucius 
had  carved  a  little  pattern  with  the  large 
sharp  knife  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 

"I  am  sure,  mamma,  that  I  did  not 
mean  to  do  mischief,"  said  Lucius,  "  nor 
to  vex  Agnes  neither.     I  thought  that  a 


12  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


carved  desk  would  be  prettier  than  a 
plain  one,  and  so  " — 

"  You  might  have  tried  the  carving  on 
your  own  desk,"  said  Agnes,  faintly.  The 
tears  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  and 
she  dared  not  raise  her  voice  lest  she 
should  bring  on  the  whooping  again. 

"  So  I  might,  blockhead  that  I  am ;  I 
never  thought  of  that !"  excLiimed  Lucius. 
"  But  if  you  like  we  will  exchange  desks 
now,  and  then  all  will  be  right.  Mine  is  a 
bigger  desk  than  yours,  and  has  not  many 
ink-stains  upon  it." 

The  proposal  set  Dora,  Amy,  and  Elsie 
laughing,  and  a  smile  rose  even  to  the  lips 
of  Agnes.  She  saw  that  Lucius  was  anx- 
ious to  make  up  for  his  folly;  but  the  big 
school-desk  would  have  been  a  poor  ex- 
change for  her  own,  which  was  neat  and 


WANTING  WORK.  13 


had  red  velvet  lining;  while  hers,  being 
scarcely  larger  than  a  work-box,  would 
have  been  of  little  service  to  Lucius  at 
school. 

"  O  no !  I'll  keep  my  own  desk ;  the 
carving  does  not  look  so  very  bad,  after  all," 
murmured  Agnes,  who  had  an  affectionate 
heart,  though  by  no  means  a  perfect 
temper. 

"  I  took  no  end  of  pains  with  it,"  said 
Lucius,  "  and  my  knife  is  so  sharp  that " — 

"  I  would  rather  that  you  did  not  try 
its  edge  on  my  table,"  cried  his  mother, 
barely  in  time  to  save  her  mahogany  from 
being  "  ornamented  "  as  well  as  the  desk- 

"  Stupid  that  I  am  !  I  was  not  thinking 
of  what  I  was  about !"  exclaimed  Lucius, 
shutting  up  the  knife  with  a  sharp  click  ; 
"bat  the  truth  is  I'm  so  horribly  sick  of 


14  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


having  nothing  to  do  that  I  must  set  about 
something.  I  don't  like  reading,  I've 
enough  and  too  much  of  that  at  school ; 
fou  won't  let  me  go  out,  lest  the  damp 
fehould  bring  back  my  coughing  and 
whooping — I've  had  enough  and  too  much 
of  that  also ;  I've  only  the  girls  to  play 
with,  for  none  of  my  own  friends  must 
come  near  the  house  because  of  this 
tiresome  infection ;  and  I  shall  be  taking 
to  cutting  my  own  fingers  off  some  day 
for  want  of  something  better  to  do  !" 

"  It's  a  case  of  idleness  being  the  mother 
of  mischief,"  cried  the  bright-eyed  Dora, 
who  was  busy  embroidering  with  many- 
colored  silks  an  apron  for  little  Elsie's 
doll. 

"  Idleness  is  indeed  very  often  the 
mother  of  mischief,"  observed  Mrs.  Tern- 


f 
WANTING  WORK.  15 


pie.  "  I  am  afraid  that  my  young  people 
often  prove  the  truth  of  the  proverb." 

"Perhaps  it  was  partly  idleness  that 
made  the  children  of  Israel  do  so  very 
very  wrong  when  they  were  wandering 
about  in  the  desert,"  observed  Am}7,  glanc- 
ing up  from  a  book  on  the  subject  which 
she  had  been  reading. 

"  Ah  !  they  were  shut  up  in  a  wilderness 
month  after  month,  year  after  year,"  cried 
Lucius,  "  after  they  had  come  forth  from 
Egypt  with  their  flocks  and  herds  and  all 
kinds  of  spoil.  They  had  little  to  do,  I 
suppose,  and  may  have  grown  just  as  tired 
of  the  sameness  of  their  lives  as  I  have  of 
the  dulness  of  mine." 

"  I  have  often  thought,"  -observed  Mrs. 
Temple,  who  had  seated  herself  at  the 
table  and  taken  up  her  knitting — "  I  have 


16  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


often  thought  how  tenderly  the  Lord  dealt 
with  his  people  in  providing  for  them 
pleasant,  interesting  occupation  when  He 
bade  them  make  the  Tabernacle,  and  con- 
descended to  give  them  minute  directions 
how  it  should  be  made.  There  were  the 
various  employments  of  carving,  orna- 
menting, working  in  metal,  to  engage  the 
attention  of  the  men  ;  while  the  women 
had  spinning,  weaving,  sewing,  and  em- 
broidering, with  the  delightful  assurance 
that  the  offering  of  their  gold  and  silver, 
their  time  and  their  toil,  was  made  to  the 
Lord  and  accepted  by  Him." 

"  I  never  before  thought  of  the  making 
of  the  Tabernacle  being  a  pleasure  to  the 
Israelites,"  observed  Agnes.  "I  always 
wondered  at  so  many  chapters  in  the 
Bible    being  filled  with  descriptions    of 


"WANTING  WGEK.  17 


curtains,  silver  loops,  and  gold  ornaments, 
which  are  of  no  interest  at  all  to  us  now." 
"My  child,  it  is  our  ignorance  which 
makes  us  think  any  part  of  the  Bible  of  no 
interest,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple.  "  If  you 
remember  the  readiness  with  which,  as 
we  know,  the  Israelites  brought  their  pre- 
cious things  for  the  Tabernacle,  and  if  you 
can  realize  the  eager  pleasure  with  which, 
after  the  long  idleness  which  had  ended  in 
grievous  sin,  men  and  women  set  to  work, 
you  will  feel  that  the  order  to  make  a 
beautiful  place  for  worship  must  have  been 
the  opening  of  a  spring  of  new  delight  to 
the  children  of  Israel.  They,  had  the 
Lord's  own  pattern  to  work  from,  so  there 
was  no  room  for  disputes  about  form  or 
style ;   and  it  was   a  pattern   admirably 

suited  to  give  pleasant   employment    to 

2 


18  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


numbers  of  people,  and  to  women  as  well 
as  to  men.  Fancy  how  listless  languor 
must  have  been  suddenly  changed  to 
animation;  the  murmurs  of  discontented 
idlers  to  the  hum  of  cheerful  workers ;  and 
how  vanity  and  foolish  gossip  amongst 
the  girls  must  have  been  checked  while 
they  traced  out  their  rich  patterns  and 
plied  their  needles ;  and  instead  of  decking 
their  own  persons,  gave  their  gold  and 
jewels  freely  to  God !" 

"  I  wish  that  we'd  a  Tabernacle  to  make 
here,"  exclaimed  Lucius,  whose  restless  fin- 
gers again  opened  his  dangerous  plaything. 

Mrs.  Temple  raised  her  hand  to  her 
brow :  a  thought  had  just  occurred  to  her 
mind.  "  "We  might  possibly  manage  to 
make  a  model  of  the  Tabernacle,"  she 
said,  after  a  moment's  reflection. 


w 

H 

H 
> 
td 
R 
fed 

!> 

o 


WANTING  WORK.  19 


"  Ah,  yes  !  I'd  do  all  the  carving  part 
— all  the  hard  part,"  cried  Lucius,  eagerly. 

"  Do,  do  let  us  make  a  model !"  ex- 
claimed his  sisters. 

"It  would  be  a  long  work — a  difficult 
work;  I  am  not  sure  whether  we  could 
succeed  in  accomplishing  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple.  "  And  after  all  our  labor,  if  we 
did  manage  to  make  a  fair  model,  to  what 
use  could  we  put  it  ?  We  had  better  con- 
sider all  these  matters  before  we  begin 
what  must  be  a  tedious  and  might  prove 
an  unprofitable  work." 

• "  Ah,  a  model  would  be  of  great  use, 
mamma!"  cried  Dora.  "At  Christmas- 
time, when  this  tiresome  infection  is  over, 
and  we  go  to  our  aunt  at  Chester,  we 
could  show  it  to  all  her  friends." 

"And    to    her     school    children  —  her 


20    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


Ragged-school  children !"  interrupted  Lu- 
cius with  animation.  "  We've  let  them  see 
our  magic-lantern  for  three  Christmases 
running,  and  if  the  children  are  not  tired 
of  the  slides  of  lions,  bears,  and  peacocks, 
I'm  sure  that  I  am ;  besides,  I  smashed 
half  the  slides  by  accident  last  winter.  A 
model  of  the  Tabernacle  would  be  some- 
thing quite  new  to  please  the  ragged 
scholars,  and  Aunt  Theodora  would  draw 
so  many  good  lessons  from  it." 

"  And  could  we  not  do  with  the  model 
what  we  did  with  the  magic-lantern,"  sug- 
gested Dora,  "  make  of  it  a  little  exhibition, 
letting  aunt's  friends  come  and  see  it  for 
sixpenny  tickets,  and  so  collect  a  little 
money  to  help  on  the  Ragged-school  ?" 

"  That  would  be  so  nice !"  cried  Amy. 

"That   would  be  famous!"   exclaimed 


WANTING  WORK.  21 


little  blue -eyed  Elsie,  clapping  her 
hands. 

"  Let's  set  to  work  this  minute !"  said 
Lucius,  and  he  rapped  the  table  with  his 
knife. 

Dora  threw  the  doll's  apron  into  her 
work-box,  eager  to  have  some  employment 
more  worthy  of  the  clever  fingers  of  a  young 
lady  of  more  than  eleven  years  of  age. 

Mrs.  Temple  smiled  at  the  impetuosity 
of  her  children.  "I  must  repeat,  let  us 
consider  first,"  she  observed.  "  Possibly 
not  one  amongst  you  has  any  idea  of  the 
amount  of  labor  and  patience  required  to 
complete  a  model  of  the  Tabernacle  which 
was  made  by  the  children  of  Israel." 

"Of  course  our  Tabernacle  would  be 
much  smaller  than  the  real  one  was," 
remarked  Dora. 


22       the  children's  tabernacle. 


"Supposing  that  we  made  it  on  the 
scale  of  one  inch  to  two  cubits,  I  wonder 
what  its  length  would  be?"  said  Mrs. 
Temple.  "Just  bring  me  the  Bible. 
Lucius,  I  will  turn  over  to  the  description 
of  the  Tabernacle,  which  we  will  find  in 
the  Book  of  Exodus." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  a  cubit  is,"  said 
Elsie,  while  her  brother  ran  for  the  Bible. 

"  Don't  you  remember  what  mamma 
told  us  when  we  were  reading  about  the 
size  of  the  Ark  ?"  said  Agnes.  "  A  cubit 
is  the  length  of  a  man's  arm  from  the 
elbow  to  the  end  of  his  middle-finger,  just 
about  half  of  one  of  our  yards." 

"Eighteen  inches,  or,  as  some  think 
twenty,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple,  as  she 
opened  the  Bible  which  Lucius  had  just 
placed  on  the  table  before  her. 


WANTING  WORK.  23 


"  Let's  count  a  cubit  as  exactly  half  a 
yard,  mamma,"  said  Lucius,  "  and  then 
one  inch's  length  in  the  model  would  go 
for  a  yard's  length  in  the  real  Tabernacle. 
If  we  reckon  thus,  how  long  would  our 
model  need  to  be?" 

"The  outer  court  of  the  Tabernacle 
was  one  hundred  cubits  long  by  fifty- 
broad,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple;  "that,  in 
such  a  model  as  we  propose  making, 
would  be  a  length  of  four  feet  and  two 
inches,  by  a  breadth  of  two  feet  and  one 
inch." 

"  Just  large  enough  to  stand  comforta- 
bly on  this  side  table!"  cried  Lucius. 
"There  will  be  room  enough  on  this 
table,  and  I'll  clear  it  of  the  books,  work- 
box,  and  flower-jar  in  a  twinkling." 

"  Stop  a  minute,  my  boy  !"  laughed  his 


24:        the  children's  tabernacle. 


mother,  as  Lucius  appeared  to  be  on  the 
point  of  sweeping  everything  off,  includ- 
ing the  green  cloth  cover  ;  "  we  have  not 
even  decided  on  whether  this  model 
should  be  made  at  all ;  and  if  we  do 
begin  one,  months  may  pass  before  we 
shall  need  that  table  on  which  to  set  it 
up." 

"  O,  do,  do  let  us  make  a  model !"  again 
the  young  Temples  cried  out. 

"I'm  ready  to  undertake  every  bit  of 
the  wood-work,"  added  Lucius,  impatient 
to  use  his  sharp  knife  on  better  work 
than  that  of  spoiling  a  desk. 

"First  hear  what  you  will  have  to 
undertake,"  said  his  more  cautious  and 
practical  mother.  "  The  mere  outer  court 
has  sixty  pillars." 

"  Sixty  pillars !"  re-echoed  the  five. 


WANTING  WOEK.  25 


u  Besides  four  more  pillars  for  the 
Tabernacle  itself,"  continued  the  lady, 
"and  forty-eight  boards  of  wood,  to  be 
covered  all  over  with  gold." 

"  How  large  would  each  board  have  to 
be  ?"  asked  Lucius,  more  gravely. 

"  Each  five  inches  long,  and  three  quar- 
ters of  an  inch  broad,"  answered  his 
mother. 

"  And  quite  thin,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
young  carpenter,  looking  thoughtfully  at 
the  blade  of  his  knife  which  was  to  accom- 
plish such  a  long,  difficult  piece  of  work. 

"  We  could  get  gold-leaf  for  the  gilding, 
mamma,"  suggested  the  intelligent  Dora, 
"  and  pasteboard  instead  of  wood  ;  paste- 
board would  look  quite  as  neat,  and  need 
not  to  be  cut  up  into  boards." 

"  Oh,  it's  not  the  gilding,  nor  the  cutting 


26       the  children's  tabernacle. 


up  the  planks  neither,  whether  they  be 
made  of  pasteboard  or  wood,  that  puzzles 
me!"  cried  her  brother;  "but  think  of 
sixty-four  pillars !  How  on  earth  could  I 
cut  out  so  many  slender  little  rods  with 
my  knife !" 

"Thick  wire  might  be  used  for  the 
pillars  just  as  well  as  pasteboard  for  the 
planks,"  said  Agnes  ;  "  when  covered  with 
gold-leaf  they  would  look  just  the  same 
as  if" —  The  sentence  was  interrupted 
by  another  fit  of  coughing ;  it  was  clear 
that  poor  Agnes  was  at  present  little 
fitted  to  join  in  the  conversation. 


II. 

iHEEE  is  a  picture  of  the  Taber- 
nacle in  your  Bible,  mamma; 
that  will  help  us  in  arranging 
what  is  to  be  done  ;  and  you  will 
decide  on  which  of  us  should  do  each 
portion  of  the  work,"  said  Dora. 

Mrs.  Temple  turned  over  the  leaves 
till  she  came  to  the  picture. 

"  Here  you  see  a  long  open  court,"  she 
observed,  "  enclosed  by  pillars  supporting 
curtains  of  fine  linen,  fastened  to  them  by 
loops  of  silver.  I  shall  supply  the  linen 
for  these   curtains,  and  I  think  that   my 

(27) 


28       the  children's  tabernacle. 


gentle  Amy,  who  sews  so  nicely,  may  mafce 
them.  This  work  will  require  only  neat- 
ness and  patience,  and  my  little  dove  has 
both." 
t  "  Ah,  mamma !  but  the  silver  loops — how 
could  I  make  them  ?"  suggested  Amy,  who 
had  very  little  self-confidence. 

"  I  have  a  reel  of  silver  thread  up-stairs 
in  my  box,"  said  her  mother;  "you  will 
make  the  tiny  loops  for  the  curtains  of 
that." 

"And  I  will  manage  the  sixty-four 
pillars!"  cried  Lucius;  "it  was  no  bad 
notion  to  make  them  of  wire.  But  they 
must  be  fixed  into  something  hard,  to 
keep  them  upright  in  their  places." 

"I  was  thinking  of  that,"  said  his 
mother ;  "  we  shall  need  a  wooden  frame, 
rather  more   than  four  feet   by  two,  to 


THE  TABERNACLE.  29 


support  the  model;  and  into  this  frame 
holes  must  be  drilled  to  receive  the  sixty- 
four  wires." 

"  I  must  borrow  the  carpenter's  tools," 
observed  Lucius ;  "  I  can't  do  all  that  with 
my  knife.  I  see  that  I  have  a  long,  diffi- 
cult job  before  me." 

"  Do  you  give  ifc  up  ?"  cried  little  Elsie, 
looking  up  archly  into  the  face  of  her 
brother. 

"  Not  I !"  said  the  schoolboy  proudly. 
"  The  harder  the  work,  the  more  glorious 
is  success !" 

"  What  are  those  objects  in  the  court  of 
the  Tabernacle?"  asked  Amy,  who  had 
been  thoughtfully  examining  the  picture. 

"  That  large  square  object  with  grating 
on  the  top,  from  which  smoke  is  rising,  is 
the  Altar  of  burnt-offering,"  said  the  lady. 


30  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


"Through  the  grating  the  ashes  of  ani- 
mals that  had  been  slain  as  sacrifices  fell 
into  a  cavity  below.  The  projections 
which  you  see  at  the  four  coiners 
are  called  the  horns  of  the  altar,  of 
which  you  read  in  various  parts  of  the 
Bible." 

"  Was  it  not  an  Altar  of  burnt-offeriug 
that  Elijah  made  on  Mount  Carmel," 
asked  Dora,  "when  he  cut  the  dead 
bullock  in  pieces  and  prayed  to  the  Lord 
till  fire  was  sent  down  from  heaven  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  her  mother,  "  but 
that  altar  was  not  like  the  one  in  the 
picture.  Elijah  built  his  up  quickly ;  it 
was  merely  formed  of  twelve  stones. 
The  altar  made  by  the  Israelites  in  the 
desert  was  framed  of  wood,  and  covered 
with    brass.     It    was    nearly  eight    feet 


THE  ALTAI!  OF  BUKJST  OFFERING. 
Children's  Tabernacle.  p.  30. 


THE  TABERNACLE.  31 


square,  and  was  reached,  not  by  steps, 
but  by  a  sloping  bank  of  earth." 

"And  what  is  that  very  large  rase 
farther  on  in  the  picture  ?"  asked  Amy. 

"  That  is  meant  for  the  Brazen  Laver, 
to  hold  water  for  the  priests  to  wash  in. 
This  laver  was  made  of  brass  which  the 
women  of  Israel  offered.  Do  any  of  my 
girls  remember  what  articles  had  been 
made  before  of  that  brass  ?  " 

The  party  were  silent  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  Amy  said,  with  a  blush  on  her 
cheek,  "  The  mirrors  of  the  women, 
mamma."  The  little  girl  was  inclined  to 
be  vain  of  her  looks,  and  her  mother,  who 
had  noticed  how  much  of  her  Amy's  time 
was  foolishly  spent  before  a  glass,  had 
drawn  her  attention,  some  days  before 
that  of  which  I  write,  to  a  fact  which  has 


32       the  children's  tabernacle. 


been  thought  worthy  oi  mention  in  the 
Bible.  The  women  of  Israel  had  the 
self-denial  to  give  up  the  brazen  mirrors— 
which  were  to  them  what  glass  mirrors* 
are  to  us — to  form  a  laver  for  the  use  of 
the  priests  when  engaged  in  the  service  of 
God. 

Mrs.  Temple  smiled  pleasantly  to  see 
that  the  example  of  the  women  in  the 
desert  had  not  been  forgotten  by  her 
child. 

"  Is  not  that  kind  of  large  tent  which  is 
standing  in  the  court,  the  Tabernacle 
itself  ?"  inquired  Dora. 

"  It  is  the  Tabernacle,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  is  all  that  smoke  coming  out  of 
it  ?"  asked  little  Elsie. 

"  That  smoke  in  the  picture  represents 
the  pillar    of    cloud    which    guided  the 


THE  TABERNACLE.  33 


Israelites  in  their  wanderings,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple.  "  For  it  is  written  in  the  book 
of  Exodus  (xl.  38),  ■  The  cloud  of  the  Lord 
was  upon  the  Tabernacle  by  day,  and  fire 
was  upon  it  by  night,  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
house  of  Israel,  throughout  aU  their  joitr- 
neys.1 " 

"  What  a  very  holy  place  that  Taberna- 
cle must  have  been !"  said  Amy,  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice. 

"  There  was  not  only  the  pillar  of  cloud 
as  a  visible  sign  of  God's  presence  resting 
upon  it,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple,  "but 
when  Moses  had  finished  making  the  Tab- 
ernacle, a  miraculous  light,  called  by  the 
Jews,  *  Shekinah,'  and,  in  the  Bible,  *the 
glory  of  the  Lord,'  filled  the  most  holy 
place." 

"  I  wish  that  it  were  so  with  holy  places 
8 


Si  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


now !"  exclaimed  Agnes.  "If  a  cloud 
always  rested  on  the  roofs  of  our  churches, 
and  a  glorious  light  shone  inside,  people 
would  not  be  so  careless  about  religion  as 
they  are  now." 

"  I  fear  that  no  outward  sign  of  God's 
presence  would  long  prevent  carelessness 
and  sin,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple. 

"  What,  mamma,  not  even  a  shining 
glory  in  church !"  cried  Amy. 

"  Remember,  my  child,  all  the  wonders 
and  terrors  of  Mount  Sinai — the  thunders 
and  lightnings,  the  smoke  that  rose  like  the 
smoke  of  a  furnace,  the  trembling  of  the 
earth,  and  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  ex- 
ceeding loud!  The  Israelites  quaked 
with  fear ;  they  felt  how  awful  is  the 
presence  of  God ;  they  implored  that  the 
Lord  might  only  address  them  through 


THE  TABERNACLE.  35 


Moses — 'But  let  not  God  speak  with  us 
lest  we  die !'  cried  the  terrified  people. 
And  jet,  in  sight  of  that  very  Mount  Sinai, 
in  sight  of  the  thick  cloud  resting  above 
it,  those  Israelites  openly  broke  God's 
commandmeDts,  and  fell  into  grievous  sin ! 
Oh,  my  beloved  children,  the  only  thing  to 
save  us  from  sinning  greatly  against  God 
is  for  our  hearts  to  be  the  tabernacle  in 
which  He  vouchsafes  to  dwell,  and  to  have 
his  Holy  Spirit  shining  as  the  bright  light 
within !  Can  any  one  of  you  repeat  that 
most  beautiful  verse  from  Isaiah  (lvii.  15), 
which  shows  us  that  the  Lord  deigns  to 
dwell  with  the  lowly  in  heart  ?" 

Of  all  Mrs.  Temple's  family,  Agnes  had 
the  best  memory ;  though  she  had  neither 
the  quick  intelligence  of  her  twin-sister 
Dora,   nor   so   much  of  the  love   of  her 


36        THE  children's  tabernacle. 


Heavenly  Master  which  made  Amy, 
though  younger  than  herself,  more  ad- 
vanced in  religious  knowledge.  Dora  had 
often  admired  the  verse  mentioned  by  her 
mother,  and  to  the  humble-minded  little 
Amy  it  had  brought  a  feeling  of  thankful 
joy ;  but  it  was  Agnes  who  remembered  it 
best  by  heart,  so  as  to  be  able  now  to  re- 
peat it  without  making  a  single  mistake. 
"  Thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  in' 
hahiteth  eternity ;  I  dwell  in  the  high  and 
holy  place,  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite 
and  humble  spirit,  to  revive  the  spirit  of  the 
humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  contrite 


ones,''* 


IIL 


%\z  €vcrtmxi$. 

C^g£pHE  girls  will  have  plenty  to  do  in 
making  the  curtains  for  the  Tab- 
ernacle itself,"  observed  Lucius, 
who,  while  his  mother  and  sisters 
had  been  conversing,  had  been  engaged 
in  looking  over  the  description  in  the 
book  of  Exodus.  "  "Why,  there  are  four 
distinct  sets  of  curtains!  First,  the 
undermost,  ten  curtains  of  fine-twined 
linen,  with  blue,  and  purple,  and  scarlet, 
and    cherubims    of    cunning — that  must 

mean  skilful — work  upon  them  !" 

(3?) 


38       the  children's  tabernacle. 


"How  splendid  that  must  be!"  ex- 
claimed Elsie. 

"  Then  a  covering  of  goats'-hair  curtains 
above  these  fine  embroidered  ones,"  con- 
tinned  Lucius ;  "  then  a  third  of  rams'- 
skins  dyed  red ;  and  then,  to  complete  the 
whole,  a  covering  of  badgers' -skin  curtains 
the  outermost  of  all." 

The  four  young  workwomen  were  some- 
what startled  at  the  difficulties  which 
their  brother's  words  had  raised  in  their 
minds.  Dora  gave  a  voice  to  the  thoughts 
of  her  sisters  when  she  said,  with  a  look 
of  disappointment,  "  It  will  be  hard  to 
get  rams' -skins  dyed  red,  but  I  do  not 
know  where  goats' -hair  can  be  bought 
in  England;  and  as  for  the  badgers'- 
skins,  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  be  quite 
impossible  even  for  mamma  to  find  such 


THE  CURTAINS.  39 


a  thing,  unless  it  be  in  the  British 
Museum." 

"  So  we  must  give  up  making  the  Tab- 
ernacle," said  Amy,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  cried  their  smiling  mother, 
"we  must  not  be  so  readily  discouraged. 
Learned  men  tell  us  chat  the  Hebrew 
word  translated  into  '  baclgers'-skins '  in 
our  Bible  is  one  of  uncertain  meaning, 
which  some  think  denotes  a  blue  color, 
and  which,  if  intended  for  a  skin  at  all,  is 
not  likely  to  have  been  that  of  a  badger. 
Blue  merino  for  the  outer  covering,  red 
Turkey-cloth  instead  of  rams'-skins,  and 
mohair  curtains  instead  of  goats'-hair, 
will  do,  I  think,  for  our  model ;  as  well  a3 
the  pasteboard,  wire,  and  gold  and  silver 
thread,  which  must  represent  metal  and 
wood." 


rO  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


"  Yes,"  said  Lucius,  quickly,  "  they  will 
do  a  great  deal  better  than  the  real  mate- 
rials ;  for  if  we  could  manage  to  get 
rams'-skins  or  badgers' -skins  to  cut  up, 
such  curtains  would  be  a  great  deal  too 
thick  and  heavy  for  a  little  model  like 
ours.  Why,  our  Tabernacle  will  be  only 
fifteen  inches  long  by  five  inches  in 
breadth." 

All  the  grave  little  faces  brightened  up 

with  smiles  at  this  way  of  getting  over 

what  had  seemed  a  very  great  difficulty. 

Elsie  looked  especially  pleased.    Pressing 

close  to  her  mother,  and  laying  her  little 

hand  on  Mrs.  Temple's  arm  in  a  coaxing 

way,  she  cried,  "  Oh,  mamma,  don't  you 

think  that  I  could  make  one  set  of  the 

i 
curtains  ?    You  know  that  I  can  hem  and 

run  a  seam,  and  don't   make  very  large 


THE  CURTAINS.  41 


stitches.  Might  I  not  try,  dear  mamma  ? 
I  should  like  to  help  to  make  the  Taber- 
nacle." 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  the  mo- 
ther to  have  resisted  that  pleading  young 
face,  even  had  Elsie  made  a  less  reason- 
able request.  "I  cannot  see  why  these 
little  fingers  should  not  manage  the  red 
Turkey-cloth  which  will  stand  for  the 
rams'-skins,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple,  strok- 
ing the  hand  of  her  child ;  "  the  outer- 
most covering  of  all  will,  of  course,  need 
finer  stitching,  and  one  of  the  twins  will 
take  that  and  the  mohair  besides.  To  make 
both  these  sets  of  curtains  will  take  far 
less  time,  and  require  less  skill,  than  must 
be  given  to  the  embroidery  on  linen  in  blue, 
scarlet,  and  purple,  which  will  adorn  the 
inner  walls  and  ceilings  of  our  little  model." 


42       the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  Do,  do  let  me  have  the  embroidery,  it 
is  just  the  work  which  I  delight  in," 
cried  Dora ;  and  she  might  have  added, 
"  excel  in,"  for  she  was  remarkably  clever 
in  making  things  requiring  fancy  and 
skill. 

Agnes,  her  twin,  flushed  very  red,  not 
merely  from  the  straining  of  the  cough 
which  had  frequently  distressed  her,  but 
from  jealous  emotion.  Agnes  had  not  a 
lowly  heart,  and  in  her  heart  angry  feel- 
ings were  rising  at  her  sister's  asking  that 
the  finest  and  most  ornamental  portion  of 
the  work  should  be  given  to  her. 

"  Of  course  mamma  will  not  let  you  have 
the  beautiful  embroidery  to  do,  Dora,  and 
leave  the  plain  mohair  and  merino  to  me, 
her  eldest  daughter !  "  exclaimed  Agnes, 
laying  a  proud  stress  on  the  word  eldest, 


THE  OUETAINS.  43 


though  there  was  but  au  hour's  difference 
between  the  ages  of  the  twins. 

"  Why,  Agnes,  what  nonsense  that  is !  " 
cried  Lucius,  bluntly ;  "  you  know,  as  well 
as  I  do,  that  your  clumsy  fingers  can't  so 
much  as  hem  a  silk  handkerchief  neatly, 
and  how  would  they  manage  embroidery 
in  purple,  scarlet,  and  blue?  Your  bad 
work  would  spoil  the  whole  thing." 

"Don't  you  meddle;  you  don't  know 
anything  about  work ! "  exclaimed  Agnes, 
in  a  loud,  angry  tone,  which  brought  on 
another  severe  fit  of  coughing  and  whoop- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Temple  was  grieved  at  the  ill-tem- 
per shown  by  her  eldest  daughter,  and  all 
the  more  so  as  Agnes  was  in  so  suffering 
a  state  as  to  make  it  difficult  for  a  mother 
to  reprove  her  as  she  would  have  done 


44       the  children's  tabernacle. 


had  the  girl  been  in  health.  The  lady 
had  to  wait  for  some  time  before  the  cough 
was  quieted  enough  for  her  gentle  voice 
to  be  heard,  though  Amy  had  quickly 
brought  a  glass  of  water  to  help  in  stop- 
ping that  cough.  When  Agnes  could 
breathe  freely  again,  the  mother  thus  ad- 
dressed her  family  circle  : — 

"I  should  be  vexed  indeed,  my  child- 
ren, if  what  I  proposed  as  a  pleasant  and 
profitable  occupation  for  you  all,  should 
become  a  cause  of  strife,  an  occasion  for 
foolish  pride  and  contention.  The  Taber- 
nacle was  in  itself  a  holy  thing,  made  so 
by  the  special  appointment  and  presence 
of  the  Lord.  I  would  wish  the  making 
of  its  model  to  be  a  kind  of  holy  employ- 
ment, one  never  to  be  marred  by  jealousy 
and  pride.     The  profits  of  your  labor,  if 


THE  CURTAINS.  4:5 


there  be  any,  you  mean  to  devote  to  help- 
ing the  poor;  therefore  I  hope  that  we 
may  consider  the  work  as  an  offering  to 
the  Lord — a  very  small  offering,  it  is  true, 
but  still  one  which  He  may  deign  to  ac- 
cept, if  it  be  made  in  a  lowly,  loving 
spirit ;  but  if  selfish,  worldly  feelings  creep 
in,  then  good  works  themselves  become 
evil.  The  Israelites  were  expressly  for- 
bidden to  offer  any  creature  in  which  there 
was  a  blemish  or  fault,  and  our  offerings 
are  certainly  blemished  and  spoilt  if  we 
mix  with  them  jealousy  and  pride." 

Agnes  bit  her  lip  and  knitted  her  brow. 
She  was  not  without  both  good  sense  and 
good  feeling,  but  she  had  not  yet  obtained 
the  mastery  over  her  jealous  temper. 

"I  do  not  see  why  Dora  should  be 
favored  above  me,"  she  murmured. 


46       the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  Dora  is  not  favored  above  you,"  re- 
plied the  mother,  gravely.  "  The  simple 
state  of  the  case  is  this — different  talents 
are  given  to  different  persons.  You  have 
a  good  memory,  Dora  a  skilful  hand. 
Were  the  work  in  question  to  be  the  re- 
peating of  a  chapter  by  heart,  Dora  would 
never  expect  to  be  the  one  chosen  to  re- 
peat it.  Why  should  pride  make  you 
refuse  to  own  that  there  are  some  things 
in  which  a  younger  sister  may  excel  you  ?" 

Agnes  hesitated,  and  glanced  at  her 
mother.  The  girl's  brow  was  a  little 
clouded  still,  and  yet  there  were  signs 
that  her  pride  was  giving  way. 

"  I  leave  the  decision  to  your  own  good 
sense  and  feeling,  my  love,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple.  "  Judge  yourself  whether,  if 
your  desire  be  to  make  a  really  beautiful 


THE  CUETAINS.  47 


model  worthy  of  the  good  object  to  which 
we  devote  it,  it  would  be  better  to  place 
the  embroidery  part  in  Dora's  hands  or 
your  owp  " 

"Let  Dora  do  it,"  said  Agnes,  with  a 
little  effort,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears,  for 
it  was  hard  to  her,  as  it  is  to  most  of  us, 
to  wrestle  down  struggling  pride. 

Mrs.  Temple  smiled  kindly  upon  her 
daughter.  "One  of  the  most  precious 
lessons  which  we  can  learn,"  said  the 
mother,  "  is,  in  obedience  to  the  command 
of  our  Lord,  to  be  willing  to  be  last  of  all, 
and  servant  of  all.  The  sacrifice  of  our 
pride  and  self-will  is  more  pleasing  to  our 
Maker  than  the  most  costly  gifts  can  be. 
It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  it  was  not  the 
outer  covering  of  the  Tabernacle,  that  part 
which  would  be  seen  from  every  quarter 


48       the  children's  tabernacle. 


of  Israel's  camp,  that  was  most  beauteous 
and  precious.  The  richest  curtains  were 
those  seen  far  less  often,  those  that  had 
the  lowest  place  in  the  building.  So  our 
Maker  cares  far  more  for  what  is  within 
than  for  what  is  without,  and  there  is  no 
ornament  so  fair  in  His  eyes  as  that  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit." 


rv. 


tttvmz 

DO  not  think  that  the  Tabernacle 
was  a  grand  building,  after  all," 
observed  Lucius,  "  though  there  is  so 
much  written  about  it  in  the  Bible. 
Why,  it  was  only  about  forty-five  feet  by 
fifteen — not  so  large  as  the  chapel  at  the 
end  of  the  town,  and  not  for  one  moment 
to  be  compared  to  the  grand  cathedral 
which  we  all  went  to  see  last  summer." 

"  There  is  one  thing  which  you  perhaps 
overlook,"  said  his  mother ;  "  when  the 
Tabernacle  was  raised,  the  Israelites  were 

4  (49) 


50  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


a  nation  of  wanderers,  and  had  no  fixed 
habitation.  Their  Tabernacle  was  a  large, 
magnificent  tent,  made  to  be  carried  about 
from  place  to  place  by  the  Levites.  Every 
portion  of  it  was  so  contrived  as  to  be 
readily  taken  to  pieces,  and  then  put  to- 
gether again.  This  could  not  have  been 
done  with  a  building  of  very  great  size." 

"Nobody  could  carry  about  the  great 
cathedral,  or  even  the  little  chapel !"  cried 
Elsie  ;  "  but  they  were  never  meant  to  be 
moved,  they  are  fixed  quite  firm  in  the 
ground." 

"  The  size  of  the  Tabernacle  was  indeed 
not  great,"  continued  Mrs.  Temple ;  "  but, 
besides  its  being  filled  with  a  glory  which 
is  never  beheld  now  in  any  building  raised 
by  man,  the  treasures  lavished  on  it  must 
have  given  to  it  a  very  splendid  appearance. 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  51 


It  has  been  calculated  that  the  gold  and 
silver  used  in  making  the  Tabernacle  must 
alone  have  amounted  in  value  to  the  enor- 
mous sum  of  185,000  pounds !" 

Exclamations  of  surprise  were  uttered, 
and  Dora  remarked — "Why,  that  would 
be  enough  to  pay  for  the  building  of  forty 
large  churches  as  handsome  as  the  new 
one  which  we  all  admire  so  much." 

"And  the  new  church  holds  ten  times 
as  many  people  as  the  Tabernacle  could," 
observed  Agnes.  "  I  cannot  think  how  a 
large  nation  like  the  Israelites  could  find 
space  to  meet  in  such  a  small  place,  only 
about  twice  the  size  of  this  room !" 

"  The  Tabernacle  was  never  intended  to 
oe  to  the  Israelites  what  a  church  is  to 
us,"  remarked  Mrs.  Temple.  "In  the 
warm  climate  of  Arabia  the  people  wor- 


52       the  children's  tabernacle. 


shipped  in  the  open  air,  under  the  blue 
canopy  of  the  sky ;  no  building  to  shelter 
them  was  required,  such  as  is  needful  in 
England.  The  men  of  Israel  brought  their 
sacrifices  to  the  court  of  the  Tabernacle, 
where,  as  you  already  know,  the  Altar  of 
burnt-offering  and  the  Laver  were  placed." 

"  But,  mamma,  what  was  inside  the 
Tabernacle  itself^what  was  so  very  care- 
fully kept  under  those  four  sets  of  cur- 
tains ?"  asked  Dora. 

"  The  Tabernacle  was  divided  into  two 
rooms  by  a  most  magnificent  curtain  of 
rich  embroidery  called  the  *  Veil,'  "  replied 
Mrs.  Temple.  "  The  outer  room,  which 
was  double  the  size  of  the  inner,  was 
named  the  'Holy,'  or  'Sanctuary.'  In 
this  outer  room  were  kept  the  splendid 
golden  Candlestick  with  its  seven  branches. 


If: Lb  S.  8°.  o-  ■" 


THE  GOLDEN  CANDLESTICK. 
Children's  Tabernacle. 


p.  52. 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  53 


each  supporting  a  lamp  which  burned  all 
through  the  night,  and  the  Table  of  Show- 
bread,  on  which  twelve  cakes  of  unleavened 
bread  were  constantly  kept — the'  supply 
being  changed  on  every  Sabbath." 

"Ah!  I  remember,  it  was  that  show- 
bread  which  was  given  to  David  when  he 
was  hungry,"  said  Lucius,  "  though  it  was 
meant  to  be  eaten  only  by  priests." 

"What  other  things  were  in  the 
outer  part  of  the  Tabernacle?"  asked 
Agnes. 

"  There  was  the  Altar  of  Incense,  my 
love,  upon  which  sweet  perfume  was  daily 
burned,  so  that  the  room  was  filled  with 
fragrance." 

"  You  have  told  us,  mamma,  what  was 
in  the  first  part  of  the  beautiful  Taber- 
nacle;  but  what  was  in  the  very  inner- 


54       the  children's  tabernacle. 


most  part,   the    little  room   beyond   the 
Veil?"  asked  Amy. 

"That  little  room,  about  fifteen  feet 
square,  was  called  the  '  Holy  of  Holies,' 
and  contained  the  most  precious  object  of 
all — the  special  symbol  of  the  presence  of 
the  Most  High.  That  object  was  the 
Ark,  with  its  cover  of  pure  gold  which  was 
called  the  '  Mercy -seat/  and  on  which 
were  figures  of  cherubim,  wrought  also  in 
gold,  with  wings  outstretched.  Over  this 
Mercy-seat,  and  between  the  golden  cheru- 
bim rested  the  wondrous  glory  which 
showed  that  God  was  with  his  people. 
David,  doubtless,  referred  to  this  when  he 
wrote  in  the  eighteenth  Psalm,  'Thou  that, 
(liveliest  between  the  cJierubims,  shine  forth  I* " 

"  And  were  not  precious  things  laid  up 
in  the  Ark?"    inquired  Agnes.     "  "Wera  - 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  55 


not  the  tables  of  stone  on  which  the 
Commandments  were  written  put  into  it  ?" 

"  And  the  Pot  of  Manna,  kept  to  re- 
mind the  people  how  their  fathers  were 
fed  in  the  desert  ?"  said  Dora. 

"  And  the  wonderful  rod  of  Aaron,  that 
budded,  and  blossomed,  and  bore  fruit; 
was  not  that  also  in  the  Ark  ?"  asked 
Lucius. 

"  All  these  most  precious  and  holy 
things  were  laid  up  in  the  Ark  (or  as 
some  think  in  front  of  the  Ark),  beneath 
the  golden  cherubim,"  replied  Mrs.  Tem- 
ple. 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  liked  above  all 
things  to  have  seen  them !"  exclaimed 
little  Elsie.  "  I  should  have  liked  to 
have  lifted  up  the  splendid  curtain-veil, 
and  to  have  gone  into  the  Holy  of  holies — 


56       the  children's  tabernacle. 


if  the  light  had  not  been  too  dazzling 
bright — and  have  looked  upon  all  those 
precious  things!  Most  of  all,  I'd  have 
liked  to  see  that  wonderful  Rod  of  Aaron, 
if  it  was  the  very  very  same  rod  that  had 
once  been  turned  into  a  serpent." 

"  Ah,  my  child,  none  of  us  would  have 
dared  to  have  lifted  that  Veil  or  to  have 
placed  a  foot  within  the  Holy  of  holies !" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Temple.  "  No  mortal 
was  ever  suffered  to  enter  that  place, 
most  sacred  of  all,  except  the  High  Priest, 
and  that  but  on  one  day  of  the  year — the 
Day  of  Atonement.  Aaron  himself,  the 
first  High  Priest,  with  trembling  awe 
must  have  lifted  the  Veil,  and  approached 
the  Mercy-seat  over  which  the  cherubims 
spread  their  wings  of  gold  !" 

Mrs.  Temple  spoke  in  so  solemn  a  tone 


THE  HOLY  PLACE  AND  THE  MOST  HOLY  PLACE. 
Children's  Tabernacle.  p.  56. 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  57 


that  the  children  felt  that  the  subject  was 
very  sacred,  and  none  of  them  spoke  for 
several  moments.  Then  Lucius  observed 
— "  There  is  now  no  place  on  earth  into 
which  no  one  dare  enter,  like  the  Holy  of 
holies  in  the  Tabernacle  of  old." 

"No,  my  son,  because  the  Yeil  has 
been  rent  in  twain,  and  the  Lord  Christ, 
our  great  High  Priest,  has  opened  a  free 
way  for  all  believers,  even  into  the  Holy 
of  holies  where  God  dwells  in  glory  for 
ever !"  said  Mrs.  Temple,  with  even  greater 
reverence  in  her  manner,  and  clasping 
her  hands  as  she  spoke. 

"  Mamma,  I  cannot  understand  you !" 
cried  Amy. 

"  These  are  the  deep  things  of  God,  my 
love,  and  it  is  very  difficult  to  explain 
their  meaning  to   children.     The   Taber- 


58  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


nacle  and  the  things  within  it  were  types, 
or  as  we  may  call  them,  pictures  of 
heavenly  mysteries,  revealed  to  us  by  the 
Gospel.  But  we  will  not  enter  now  upon 
these  difficult  subjects.  I  think  that  you 
know  a  little  about  the  appearance  of  the 
Tabernacle  of  which  you  are  anxious  to 
make  a  model,  and  also  of  what  was 
contained  within  it.  To  understand  the 
meaning  of  that  holy  place,  and  of  its 
contents,  will  require  much  earnest  thought 
and  attention.  We  may  perhaps  converse 
a  little  about  it  to-morrow,  which  is 
Sunday.  Tou  will  have  abundance  of 
time,  as  the  fear  of  giving  infection  to 
others  obliges  me  to  keep  you  from  going 
to  church." 


Y. 


WISH  that  to-morrow  were  any 
day  but  Sunday !"  exclaimed 
Lucius.  "Just  when  one  is  set- 
ting about  a  long  work,  eager  to 
measure  and  to  make,  to  cut  and  to  clip, 
it  is  vexatious  to  have  to  stop  in  the 
middle  of  business,  to  shove  away  knife, 
ruler,  pencil,  pasteboard,  and  all,  into  a 
drawer  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours  !" 

"  Perhaps  it   would  be  better  not   to 
begin  the  work   at   all    until    Monday," 

mildly  suggested  his  mother. 

(59) 


60  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


"  O  no,  we've  all  the  Saturday  after- 
noon, let's  set  to  making  our  model  at 
once !"  exclaimed  Lucius. 

"  Please,  please,  don't  make  us  put  off!" 
cried  Dora  and  Elsie. 

Mrs.  Temple  was  a  very  indulgent  mo- 
ther, and  was  inclined  to  be  all  the  more 
so  as  every  one  of  her  children  was  either 
suffering  from  whooping-cough  or  just 
recovering  from  its  effects.  Their  mother 
felt  sorry  at  the  necessity  for  shutting  out 
her  family  from  many  of  their  usual  occu- 
pations and  pleasures,  and  even  from  the 
privilege  of  going  to  church.  The  lady 
did  not,  therefore,  in  the  least  press  the 
subject  of  delay,  but  offered,  as  soon  as 
early  dinner  should  be  over,  to  go  and 
search  in  her  drawers  and  boxes  for  such 
materials  as  she  might  think  suitable  for 


PREPARATION.  61 


the  model  of  the  Tabernacle,  which  her 
children  were  so  eager  to  make.  The 
dinner-bell  sounded  while  Mrs.  Temple 
was  speaking,  and  the  family  went  to- 
gether to  the  room  in  which  they  took  all 
their  meals,  and  gathered  round  the  table 
which  was  spread  with  a  plentiful,  though 
plain  repast. 

"While  the  young  Temples  are  engaged 
with  their  dinner,  let  me  introduce  them 
a  little  more  individually  to  my  reader. 
There,  at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  is  Lu- 
cius, a  sunburnt,  pleasant-looking  school- 
boy, with  a  mass  of  brown,  half-curly  locks 
brushed  back  from  his  forehead.  He  has 
quick  eyes  and  restless  hands,  which  are 
seldom  perfectly  still,  even  if  they  have 
no  better  occupation  than  that  of  tyiug 
and  untyiug  a  morsel  of  string ;  but  they 


62        the  children's  tabernacle. 


are  now  busily  plying  a  large  knife  and 
fork,  for  Lucius  is  a  skilful  carver,  and 
the  joint  of  mutton  is  placed  before  him, 
from  which  to  help  all  the  party. 

The  pale  girl  seated  on  the  right  of 
Lucius,  with  eyes  weak  and  reddened  by 
the  effect  of  her  cough,  is  Agnes,  the 
elder  of  the  twins.  Her  brow  is  furrowed, 
perhaps  from  the  same  cause,  perhaps 
because  she  is  more  irritable  in  temper 
than  her  brother  and  sisters.  But  Agnes 
is  a  conscientious  girl,  one  who  thinks 
much  of  duty  :  and  we  may  hope  that 
"  prayer  and  pains,"  which  it  has  been 
well  said  can  do  anything,  will  give  her 
the  mastery  over  faults  against  which  she 
is  trying  to  struggle. 

Opposite  to  Agnes  sits  Dora,  who, 
though   her  twin,  is   not  much   like   her, 


PREPARATION.  63 


being  a  good  deal  taller,  prettier,  and 
more  animated  than  she.  Dora  is  a  much 
greater  favorite  with  Lucius  and  the 
younger  girls  than  the  elder  twin,  from 
being  gay,  obliging,  and  clever.  Agnes  is 
perfectly  aware  that  such  is  the  case,  and 
has  to  pray  and  strive  against  the  sin  of 
jealousy,  which  is  too  ready  to  creep  into 
her  heart  and  poison  all  her  enjoyments. 

On  either  side  of  Mrs.  Temple  are  her 
two  younger  daughters,  Amy  and  Elsie. 
The  former,  with  soft  brown  eyes  and  long 
flaxen  hair  tied  with  blue  ribbons,  is 
strikingly  like  her  mother,  who  has,  at 
least  so  think  her  children,  the  sweetest 
face  in  the  world.  Amy  has  never  been 
known  to  quarrel  or  utter  an  angry  word, 
and  is  always  ready  to  give  help  to  any 
one  who  needs  it.     It  is  no  wonder  that 


64:  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


so  gentle  a  girl  is  beloved.  But  Amy 
knows  herself  to  be  by  no  means  faultless, 
and  is  much  on  her  guard  against  the 
silly  vanity  which  a  mother's  watchful 
eye  has  found  out  to  be  lurking  in  the 
mind  of  her  dear  little  girl. 

Elsie  is  a  merry  blue-eyed  child,  full  of 
life  and  intelligence,  forward — rather  too 
forward  for  her  age.  She  has  for  six 
years  held  the  place  of  baby  in  the  home 
of  her  widowed  mother,  and  her  family 
are  rather  disposed  to  indulge  her  as  if 
she  were  a  baby  still.  She  enters  with 
animation  into  the  amusements  of  the 
elder  children,  and  is  by  no  means  dis- 
posed to  be  seen  and  not  heard,  as  Lucius 
often  laughingly  tells  her  that  such  little 
people  should  be. 

The   conversation  during    dinner   wa? 


PREPARATION.  65 


almost  entirely  on  the  subject  of  the 
model,  and  flowed  on  pleasantly  enough, 
except  when  interrupted  by  coughing ; 
but  all  the  children  were  glad  when  meal- 
time was  over,  and  their  mother,  with 
Amy  and  Elsie  skipping  before  her,  went 
off  to  hunt  over  her  little  stores  for  such 
materials  as  might  be  found  useful.  Lu- 
cius employed  the  time  of  their  absence  in 
exploring  the  lumber-room  for  tops  of 
old  boxes  or  other  bits  of  wood  that  might, 
when  fastened  together,  do  for  the  ground- 
frame  of  the  model,  into  which  the  gilded 
pillars  might  be  fixed.  Dora,  with  pencil 
and  paper,  busied  herself  in  trying  to 
make  an  embroidery  pattern,  introducing 
the  figures  of  cherubim.  Agnes,  who  was 
too  weak  for  much  exertion,  and  who  took 

less  keen  interest  in  the  work  than  did  her 

5 


6Q       the  children's  tabernacle. 


sisters,  lay  on  the  sofa  reading  a  book, 
until  the  return  of  Amy  and  Elsie,  each  of 
whom  carried  some  little  treasure  in  her 
hands. 

"Look,  Agnes,  look  at  these  shining 
reels  of  gold  and  silver  thread !"  exclaimed 
the  youngest  child  with  eager  delight. 

"  Gold  thread — ah  !  that's  just  what  I 
want  1"  cried  Dora,  thro  whig  down  her 
pencil. 

"And  here  is  mamma's  book  of  gold 
leaf ;  there  is  a  little  gold  sheet  between 
every  one  of  the  pages,"  continued  Elsie. 
"  But  oh !  it  is  so  thin,  so  very  thin,  one 
dare  not  breathe  near,  or  the  gold  would 
all  fly  away !" 

"  I  thought  that  gold  was  a  very  heavy 
metal,"  observed  Agnes,  looking  up  from 
tier  book. 


PBEPAEATION.  67 


"  But  it  is  beaten  out  into  such  extreme 
fineness  that  a  bit  of  gold  no  larger  than 
a  pea  would  gild  all  these,"  said  Lucius, 
who  had  just  entered  the  room  with  his 
arms  full  of  pieces  of  wood. 

"  See,  Agnes,  what  we  have  brought  for 
you !"  cried  Amy.  "  Here  is  a  beautiful 
piece  of  blue  merino  for  the  outer  curtains 
(the  badgers'-skin  cover,  you  know),  and 
blue  silk  with  which  to  sew  it ;  and  here 
is  another  piece  of  mohair  for  the  goats'- 
skin  cover,  so  you  are  supplied  directly 
with  everything  that  you  need;  is  not 
that  nice?" 

Agnes  did  not  look  so  much  delighted 
as  her  sister  expected  that  she  would ; 
perhaps  because  she  was  scarcely  well 
enough  to  take  much  pleasure  in  sewing ; 
perhaps  because  she  had  still  a  lingering 


68       the  children's  tabernacle. 


feeling  of  mortification  at  not  having  been 
trusted  with  the  embroidery  part  of  the 
work. 

"  I  hope  that  you  have  brought  me  the 
fine  linen  for  the  beautiful  inner  curtains, 
and  the  veil  for  the  Holy  of  holies,"  cried 
Dora. 

"  No,  mamma  cannot  find  any  linen  fine 
enough,  unless  she  were  to  tear  up  her 
handkerchiefs,  and  that  would  be  a  pity," 
said  Amy.  "But  mamma  has  promised 
to  buy  some  linen  both  for  your  curtains 
and  for  mine  that  are,  you  know,  to  hang 
all  round  the  open  court  of  the  Taber- 
nacle." 

"  It  i3  very  tiresome  to  have  to  stop  at 
the  beginning  for  want  of  fine  linen !"  ex- 
claimed Dora.  "  I  hope  that  mamma 
will  go  out  and  buy  us  plenty  at  once." 


PREPARATION.  69 


"All!  Dora,  you  know  that  mamma 
owned  this  morning  that  she  felt  very 
tired,"  said  Amy,  a  little  reproachfully  ; 
"  and  the  shops  are  a  good  way  off ;  it  is 
not  as  if  we  lived  in  the  town." 

"  Besides,  it  is  raining,"  observed  Elsie, 
who  was  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"  It  is  merely  a  little  drizzle,  that  would 
not  hurt  a  fly  I"  exclaimed  Dora.  "  Mam- 
ma never  minds  a  few  tiny  drops  when 
she  puts  on  her  waterproof  cloak." 

"  Mamma  never  minds  anything  that 
has  only  to  do  with  her  own  comfort," 
observed  Amy. 

"  So  there  is  more  need  that  we  should 
mind  for  her,"  said  Agnes. 

"  I'm  sure  that  I  wish  that  I  could  go 
to  the  shops  myself  without  troubling  any 
one  !"  exclaimed  the  impatient  Dora.     "  If 


70  THE   CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


it  were  not  for  this  stupid,  tiresome  infec- 
tion, I'd  get  Lucius  to  go  with  me  this 
minute,  and  would  we  not  return  laden 
with  linen,  pasteboard,  and  all  sorts  of 
things!  But  mamma's  fear  of  setting 
other  people  coughing  and  whooping 
makes  her  keep  us  shut  up  here  in  prison." 
"Mamma  is  quite  right!"  exclaimed 
Lucius.  "  I  say  so,  though  I  hate  more 
than  you, do  being  boxed  up  here  in  the 
house." 

"Mamma  is  quite  right,"  re-echoed 
poor  Agnes,  as  soon  as  she  recovered 
voice  after  another  violent  fit  of  coughingj 
which  almost  choked  her.  "  I  should  not 
like  to  give  any  one  else  such  a  dreadful 
complaint  as  this." 

Mrs.  Temple  now  entered  the  room, 
with  several  things  in  her  hand.     "  I  have 


PBEPABATION.  71 


found  a  nice  bit  of  red  Turkey  cloth,"  said 
she,  "  so  my  little  Elsie  will  be  able  to  set 
to  work  on  her  curtains  at  once." 

The  child  clapped  her  hands  with  plea- 
sure, and  then  scampered  off  for  her  little 
Tunbridge-ware  work-box. 

"  I  hope  that  you  have  found  the  linen 
too,  mamma,"  cried  Dora ;  "  I  am  in  a 
hurry  for  it,  a  very  great  hurry,"  she 
added,  regardless  of  an  indignant  look 
from  Agnes,  and  a  pleading  one  from 
Amy. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  have  no  suitable 
linen,"  replied  the  lady,  "  but  I  intend  to 
go  out  and  buy  some." 

"  Not  to-day,  not  now,  it  is  raining ;  you 
are  tired,"  cried  several  voices;  that  of 
Dora  was,  however,  not  heard  amongst 
them. 


72        the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  I  have  here  some  pasteboard,  though 
not  sufficient  for  our  model,  and  a  bottle 
of  strong  gum  which  will  be  most  useful," 
said  the  lady,  placing  on  the  table  what 
she  had  brought ;  "  but  gilt  paper  will  be 
needed  as  well  as  gold  leaf,  and  of  it  I 
have  none ;  I  must  procure  that,  and  some 
more  pasteboard  for  my  dear  boy." 

"  And  plenty  of  wire,  cut  into  five-inch 
lengths  for  the  pillars,"  added  Lucius. 

"  And  linen  for  Amy  and  me,"  joined  in 
Dora. 

"  But  please  buy  nothing  till  Monday," 
said  Agnes  ;  "  t&3  work  can  wait  quite  well 
for  a  couple  of  days." 

"  Yes,  yes,  do  wait  till  Monday,"  cried 
the  other  children  ;  Dora  again  being  the 
only  exception. 

Dora's  selfishness  was  marring  her  of- 


PREPARATION.  73 


fering,  as  Agnes's  pride  had  blemished 
hers.  How  difficult  it  is  even  in  the  most 
innocent  pleasure,  even  in  the  most  holy- 
occupation,  to  keep  away  every  stain  of 
sin!  Ever  since  the  sad  time  when  evil 
entered  the  beautiful  garden  of  Eden,  and 
Adam  and  Eve  ate  of  the  fruit  which  God 
had  forbidden  them  to  taste,  pride,  selfish- 
ness, and  unholiness  have  been  natural  to 
the  human  heart.  Even  when  we  most 
earnestly  try  to  do  what  we  think  good 
works,  how  much  we  need  to  be  on  our 
guard  lest  sin  creep  in  to  spoil  all ! 

Dora,  though  silent,  showed  so  plainly 
by  her  looks  her  extreme  impatience  to  be 
supplied  at  once  with  the  materials  for 
which  she  -could  have  so  easily  waited  that 
her  gentle .  mother  made  up  her  mind  to 
gratify  the  wish  of  her  daughter.     Mrs. 


74        the  children's  tabernacle. 


Temple  put  on  her  waterproof  cloak,  and, 
tired  as  she  was,  went  forth  on  a  shopping 
expedition.  It  vexed  the  children  to  see 
that  the  clouds  grew  darker  and  the 
shower  fell  more  heavily  not  long  after 
their  mother  had  quitted  the  house. 

"If  mamma  catches  cold  or  has  pain  in 
her  face  it  is  all  Dora's  fault !  "  exclaimed 
Lucius. 

"It  was  so  selfish — so  silly  not  to  wait," 
observed  Agnes  ;  "  just  see  how  the  rain 
is  pouring !  " 

"  I  love  mamma  as  much  as  any  of  you 
do  !  "  cried  Dora,  her  heart  swelling  with 
vexation,  so  that  she  could  hardly  refrain 
from  tears. 

"You  love  yourself  better,  that's  allJ', 
remarked  Lucius ;  and  his  words  were 
more  true  than  polite. 


PREPARATION.  75 


Mrs.  Temple  returned  home  very  much 
tired  and  rather  wet,  notwithstanding  her 
umbrella  and  waterproof  cloak.  And 
Dora  was,  after  all,  disappointed  of  her 
wish  to  have  the  linen  and  begin  her 
embroidery  work  directly.  Mrs.  Temple 
had  found  it  difficult  to  carry  home  par- 
cels when  she  had  an  umbrella  to  hold  up 
on  a  windy  day,  and  had  also  feared  that 
goods  might  get  damp  if  taken  through 
driving  rain.  The  wire,  pasteboard,  gold- 
paper,  and  linen  were  to  be  sent  home  in 
the  evening,  and  the  longed-for  parcel  did 
not  appear  until  it  was  time  for  the  twins 
to  follow  their  younger  sisters  to  bed. 


VI. 


eg. 

"This  is  the  day  when  Christ  arose. 
So  early  from  the  dead  ; 
And  shall  I  still  my  eyelids  close 
And  waste  my  hours  in  bed ! 

"  This  is  the  day  when  Jesus  broke 
The  chains  of  death  and  hell ; 
And  shall  I  still  wear  Satan's  yoke 
And  love  my  sins  so  well !" 

fHb^HIS  well-known  hymn  was  on 
Amy's  mind  when  she  awoke  on 
the  following  day,  and  it  rose  from 
her  heart  like  the  sweet  incense 
burnt  every  morning  in  the  Tabernacle  of 
Israel.     But  Dora's  thoughts  on  waking, 

and  for  some  time  afterwards,  might    be 

(76) 


THE  ALTAR  OF  INCENSE. 
Children's  Tabernacle. 


chap.  6. 


TYPES.  77 

summed  up  in  the  words — "  Oh,  I  "wish 
that  this  day  were  not  Sunday!  How 
tiresome  it  is,  when  my  beautiful  pattern 
is  all  ready,  not  to  be  able  to  try  it !" 

Mrs.  Temple  did  not  appear  to  be  much 
the  worse  for  her  shopping  in  the  rain. 
Her  children  knew  nothing  of  the  aching 
in  her  limbs  and  the  pain  in  her  face 
which  she  felt,  as  she  bore  both  quietly 
and  went  about  her  duties  as  usual. 
Dora  did  not  trouble  herself  even  to  ask  if 
her  mother  were  well.  It  was  not  that 
Dora  did  not  love  her  kind  parent,  but  at 
that  time  the  mind  of  the  little  girl  was 
completely  taken  up  by  her  embroidery  in 
scarlet,  purple,  and  blue. 

As  the  children  might  not  go  to  church, 
Mrs.  Temple  read  and  prayed  with  them 
at  home,  suffering  none  but  Lucius  to  help 


78       the  children's  tabernacle. 


her,  and  letting  him  read  but  little,  for 
fear  of  bringing  back  his  cough. 

All  through  the  time  of  prayers,  though 
Dora  knelt  like  the  rest  of  the  children, 
and  was  as  quiet  and  looked  almost  as  at- 
tentive as  any,  her  needlework  was  running 
in  her  mind.  If  she  thought  of  the  happy 
cherubim,  it  was  not  of  their  crying  "  Holy, 
holy,  holy !"  in  heaven,  but  of  the  forms 
of  their  faces  and  wings,  and  how  she 
could  best  imitate  such  with  her  needle. 

I  will  not  say  that  the  other  children 
thonght  about  the  Tabernacle  only  as  * 
a  holy  thing  described  in  the  Bible,  from 
which  religious  lessons  could  be  learnt, — 
little  plans  for  sewing,  measuring,  or 
making  the  model  would  sometimes  in- 
trude, even  at  prayer-time  ;  but  Lucius 
had  resolutely  locked  up  his  knife,  and  he 


TYPES.  79 

and  three  of  his  sisters  at  least  tried  to 
give  full  attention  to  what  their  mother 
was  speaking  when  she  read  and  explained 
the  Word  of  God. 

Mrs.  Temple  purposely  chose  the  ninth 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  a 
very  difficult  chapter  to  the  young,  but 
one  likely  specially  to  interest  her  family 
at  a  time  when  the  subject  of  the  Tab- 
ernacle in  the  wilderness  was  uppermost 
in  the  minds  of  all.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  Dora  did  not  join  at  all  in  the  con- 
versation which  followed  the  reading. 

"  Mamma,  that  chapter  comes  nearly  at 
the  end  of  the  Bible,  and  is  about  our 
Lord  and  his  death,"  observed  Lucius  ; 
"  and  yet  it  tells  us  about  the  Tabernacle, 
and  its  ark,  and  the  high  priest  going  into 
the  Holy  of  holies.     Now,  what  could  the 


80  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


Tabernacle  in  the  desert  have  do  with 
our  Lord  and  His  dying, — that  Tabernacle 
which  was  made  nearly  fifteen  hundred 
years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  and 
which  was  no  longer  of  any  use  after  Sol- 
omon's temple  was  built  ?" 

"  The  Tabernacle,  the  ark,  the  high 
priest,  the  sacrifices  were  all  types  or 
figures  of  greater  things  to  come,"  replied 
Mrs.  Temple.  "  There  was  a  secret 
meaning  in  them  all,  referring  to  our  Lord, 
His  work,  and  His  death,  and  the  glorious 
heaven  which  He  was  to  open  to  all  be- 
lievers." 

"  I  don't  know  what  a  type  is,"  said 
Elsie. 

"  It  is  not  clear  to  me  either,"  observed 
Amy. 

"Unless  we   quite  understand   what   a 


TYPES.  81 

type  means,  we  shall  lose  much  of  the 
lesson  conveyed  by  the  wanderings  of  the 
children  of  Israel,  and  the  long  account  of 
the  Tabernacle,  what  was  in  it,  and  what 
was  done  there,  which  we  find  in  the 
books  of  Moses,"  remarked  Mrs.  Temple. 

"It  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  that 
Tabernacle  were  quite  a  thing  of  the 
past,"  said  Agnes,  V  and  that  it  belonged 
only  to  the  Israelites  of  old.  I  never 
could  make  out  why  Christian  people  in 
England,  thousands  of  years  after  the  Tab- 
ernacle had  quite  disappeared,  should  care 
to  know  anything  about  it,  the  ark,  or  the 
altar." 

"But  you  say  that  all  these  things  were 

types,"  observed  Amy.     "  Now,  what  is  a 

type,  dear  mamma  ?" 

"A  kind  of  shadow  or  picture  of  some- 
6 


82        the  children's  tabernacle. 


thing  usually  greater  than  itself,"  replied 
Mrs.  Temple. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Elsie,  raising 
her  blue  eyes  gravely  to  the  face  of  her 
mother. 

"  You  know,  my  love,  that  before  you 
came  to  live  in  this  house,  when  none  of 
the  family  but  myself  had  seen  it,  you 
still  had  some  little  knowledge  of  what  it 
was  like." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  for  you  brought  us  little 
pictures  of  the  house,  both  of  the  back 
and  the  front,"  said  Agnes. 

"  We  knew  that  it  was  a  pretty  white 
house,  and  had  a  little  tower  on  one  side, 
and  that  trees  were  growing  in  front,  and 
creepers  all  up  it !"  cried  Elsie. 

"  Now,  I  might  have  described  the  place 
to  you  in  writing,  but  you  would  not  have 


TYPES.  83 

known  its  appearance  as  well  as  jou  did 
from  the  pictures,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple. 

"  No,  from  a  mere  description  I  should 
not  have  been  able  to  find  out  the  house 
directly  as  I  did  when  I  walked  alone  from 
the  station,"  cried  Lucius.  "  There  are 
several  white  houses  near  this,  but  the  re- 
membrance of  the  pictures  made  me  know 
in  a  moment  which  was  the  right  one." 

"  Now,  my  children,  just  what  a  picture 
is  to  the  object  which  it  represents,  so  is  a 
type  to  its  antitype  ;  that  word  means  the 
real  thing  of  which  it  is  a  likeness,"  ob- 
served Mrs.  Temple. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  very  stupid  in 
not  making  out  what  you  mean  at  once, 
dear  mamma,"  said  Amy ;  "  but  if  you 
would  explain  just  one  type  in  the  Bible, 
I  think  that  I  might  understand  better." 


84       the  children's  tabernacle. 


v  Let  us  take,  then,  the  innermost  part 
of  the  Tabernacle,  the  Holy  of  holies," 
replied  Mrs.  Temple.  "It  was  a  very 
beautiful  place,-  full  of  the  glory  of  God, 
into  which  no  objects  were  allowed  to  be 
but  such  as  were  precious  and  pure ;  there 
was  the  mercy-seat  like  a  throne,  and 
there  were  the  bright  cherubim  spreading 
their  golden  wings.  Now,  my  children,  if 
we  compare  small  things  to  great  things, 
cannot  you  of  yourselves  find  out  of  what 
this  Holy  of  holies  was  a  picture  or  a 
type?" 

"  A  type  of  heaven  !"  exclaimed  several 
voices  at  once  ;  but  Amy  looked  distressed, 
and  murmured  softly,  "  I  hope  not  a  type 
of  heaven." 

"And  why  not  ?"  asked  Lucius,  quickly. 

"  Because  no  one  was  ever  allowed  to 


TYPES.  85 

go  into  the  Holy  of  holies  save  one  man, 
and  he  only  once  in  the  year,"  replied 
Amy,  sadly. 

"And  that  not  without  blood"  said  Lucius, 
pointing  to  the  seventh  verse  of  the  chap- 
ter which  his  mother  had  just  been 
reading. 

"  Go  on  reading,  Lucius,"  said  his  pa- 
rent, and  Lucius,  as  desired,  went  on. 
"  Not  without  blood,  which  he  offered  for  him- 
self and  for  the  errors  of  the  people,  the  Holy 
Ghost  thus  signifying  that  the  way  into  the 
holiest  of  all  was  not  yet  made  manifest" 

"  Or,  in  simpler  words,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple,  "  that  the  way  into  heaven  w^s 
not  yet  made  plain.  When  Christ,  our 
great  High  Priest,  had  gone  into  heaven, 
neither  by  the  blood  of  goats  and  calves,  but  by  » 
His  own  blood  He  entered  in  once  into  the  holy 


86       the  children's  tabernacle. 


place,  having  obtained  eternal  redemption  for 


US." 


"  Then,  mother,  the  high  priest  must 
have  been  a  type  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ !"  exclaimed  Lucius. 

"  No,"  interrupted  Agues,  "  the  sacrifice 
was  the  type,  the  sacrifice  whose  blood 
had  been  shed." 

"  Both  high  priest  and  sacrifice  were 
types  of  our  blessed  Saviour,"  replied 
Mrs.  Temple.  "  The  Lord  was  the  victim 
offered,  and  He  was  also  the  high  priest 
who  made  the  offering,  for  He  laid  down 
His  life  of  Himself,  since  no  man  had 
power  to  take  it  from  the  Almighty  Son 
of  the  Most  High." 

"  Was  there  any  particular  meaning  in 
the  veil  of  the  Temple  being  rent  in  twain 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  as  soon  as 


TYPES.  87 

our  Lord  died  on  the  cross?"  inquired 
Agnes,  who  had  been  listening  with  seri- 
ous attention. 

"We  cannot  doubt  it,"  answered  her 
mother.  "  The  Temple  was  the  far  larger, 
more  substantial  building  which  took  the 
place  *  of  the  Tabernacle  of  the  wander- 
ing children  of  Israel ;  it,  too,  had  its  veil 
of  rich  work  to  shut  out  from  mortal  view 
the  Holy  of  holies.  But  as  soon  as  the 
One  great  Sacrifice  had  been  offered  on 
the  cross,  when  the  dying  Lord  could  cry 
out  'It  is  finished,'  then  followed  the 
rending  asunder  of  the  hiding  veil,  as 
a  sign  and  type  that  all  the  Lord's  people, 
through  His  precious  blood,  might  freely 

*  The  Temple  standing  at  the  time  of  our  Lord's 
death  was  not  Solomon's,  which  had  beeD  burnt 
more  than  six  hundred  years  before. 


88 


THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


enter  heaven,  the  real  Holy  of  holies,  and 
appear  without  dread  of  meeting  His 
wrath  in  the  presence  of  God  the 
Father." 


VII. 


^fe^^IIE  subject  of  the  preceding  con 
versation  had  been  so  exceed- 
ingly solemn  that  even  little 
Elsie  had  a  grave  look  of  awe  on 
her  round  rosy  face,  though  she  could 
understand  but  little  of  the  great  mysteries 
of  which  her  mother  had  been  speaking. 
Elsie  could  only  gather  that  a  type  was 
like  a  picture  of  something  much  greater 
and  more  wondrous  than  itself,  and  said 
in  her  simple,  childish  way,  "  Is  not  a 
type  like  your  very  tiny  photo,  mamma, 

so  little  that  we  could  not  make  out  that 

'89) 


90  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


there  was  any  picture  at  all  till  we  held  it 
up  to  the  light,  and  then  we  could  see  the 
Queen's  great  palace  quite  plain  ?" 

"Elsie  has  given  us  a  type  of  a  type!" 
cried  Lucius,  clapping  his  little  sister  on 
the  shoulder. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  asked 
Agnes. 

Lucius  was  puzzled  to  explain  his  own 
meaning,  which  was  perhaps  not  very- 
clear  to  himself,  so  his  mother  came  to 
his  help. 

"  Elsie's  very  minute  photograph  is  not 
a  bad  illustration  of  what  Bible  types 
are,"  remarked  Mrs.  Temple.  "They 
look  small,  and  might  almost  escape 
notice,  until  the  eye  of  faith  sees  them  in 
the  clear  light  of  God's  "Word,  and  then 
what   seemed  little   more   than  a  speck, 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  91 


may  be  found  to  be  a  likeness  of  some- 
thing grander  far  than  a  royal  palace." 

"It  would  be  interesting  to  find  out 
some  other  Bible  types,"  observed  Agnes. 
.  "I  was  just  going  to  propose  that  while 
I  attend  afternoon  service,  you  should  all 
occupy  the  time  of  my  absence  in  each 
finding  a  type,  which  we  can  talk  over  in 
the  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Temple. 

"  I  should  like  that !"  cried  Lucius ;  "  I 
am  glad  of  anything  to  make  the  afternoon 
less  dull ;  for  I  know  that  as  it  is  damp  to- 
day we  shall  all  have  to  keep  within 
bounds,"  he  added,  Agnes  having  just 
begun  a  fit  of  coughing. 

"I  should  like  to  find  a  Bible  type  if 
I  could,  but  I'm  afraid  that  I  am  too 
stupid,"  said  Amy. 

"You    and    me,    we'll    try    together,' 


92        the  children's  tabernacle. 


cried  Elsie,  laying  her  plump  dimpled 
hand  on  that  of  her  sister. 

"  Ah !  you  think  that  union  is  strength, 
Pussie!"  cried  Lucius;  "and  that  you 
two  youngest  of  the  party  will  together  be 
a  match  for  any  one  of  the  rest." 

Little  Elsie's  brain  had  now  been  quite 
long  enough  on  the  stretch,  and  after 
jumping  upon  her  mother's  knee  to  give 
her  "  a  good  tight  kiss,"  the  child  ran  off 
to  play  with  her  Noah's  Ark.  The  family 
then  dispersed  to  various  parts  of  the 
house,  soon  to  reassemble  at  the  cheerful 
sound  of  the  dinner-bell. 

After  Mrs.  Temple  had  started  for 
church,  Lucius,  Agnes  and  Amy  took  up 
their  Bibles  to  search  in  them  for  types, 
while  little  Elsie  amused  herself  with  a 
book  of  Scripture  pictures.     Dora  went  to 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  93 


the  room  called  the  study,  in  which  the 
children  usually  learned  their  lessons  in 
the  morning,  and  amused  themselves  in 
the  evening,  and  in  which  they  kept  their 
workboxes  and  desks,  and  most  of  their 
books.  Dora  found  no  one  in  the  study, 
and  sauntered  up  to  the  side  table, 
covered  with  green  cloth,  on  which  stood 
her  neat  little  workbox. 

"  Of  course  I  am  not  going  to  do  one 
stitch  of  my  embroidery  to-day,  because 
this  is  Sunday,"  said  Dora  to  herself. 
"  But  there  can  be  no  harm  in  just  looking 
at  my  pretty  pattern,  and  seeing  whether 
it  is  likely  to  do  for  the  inner  curtains  and 
veil." 

Dora  opened  the  box,  and  took  out  the 
pattern  which  lay  on  the  neatly-folded 
piece  of  linen  which  her  mother  had  given 


94  THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


to  lier  just  before  the  twins  had  gone  up- 
stairs to  bed.  Dora  admired  her  own 
pattern,  which  was  really  drawn  out  with 
some  skill,  but  she  saw  that  it  was  not 
quite  perfect.  Her  pencil  lay  close  at 
hand ;  Dora  could  not,  or  did  not,  resist 
the  temptation  to  put  in  a  few  touches  to 
this  and  that  part  of  the  drawing. 

"  I  wonder  how  I  should  arrange  the 
colors,"  thought  Dora;  "I  wish  that  I 
had  more  scarlet  in  my  reel,  and  I  think 
that  my  blue  skein  is  too  dark  ;  Agnes  has 
some  sky-blue  sewing  silk,  I  know.  Per- 
haps that  would  be  better,  or  both  shades 
might  have  a  pretty  effect,  mixed  with  the 
scarlet  and  purple." 

Dora  took  out  her  reels  and  skeins,  and 
placed  them  beside  her  pattern,  and  tried 
to  imagine  the  effect  of  the  different  com- 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  95 


biuation  of  color.  Would  it  be  well  for 
the  cherubim  to  be  worked  in  purple  or 
blue,  or  entirely  in  thread  of  gold,  like 
their  wings  ?  Dora  was  inclined  to  think 
the  last  plan  best,  only  gold  thread  is  so 
stiff,  and  difficult  to  manage. 

"  I  shall  never  go  to  rest  till  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  about  this,"  muttered 
Dora  to  herself,  "and  how  can  I  decide 
what  will  be  best  till  I  try?  And  why 
should  I  not  try  ?"  Dora,  with  her 
colored  silks  before  her,  was,  like  Eve, 
looking  at  the  forbidden  fruit,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  voice  of  the  Tempter,  who 
would  persuade  her   that  evil  was   good, 

"  There  are  some  things  which  even 
mamma  says  are  quite  lawful  to  be  done 
on  Sundays,  such  as  charitable  works. 
Mamma  herself  dressed  the  cook's  scalded 


96       the  children's  tabernacle. 


arm  upon  a  Sunday,  and  put  in  a  stitch  or 
two  to  keep  the  bandages  firm.  Thai  was 
surely  sewing  on  a  Sunday,  but  then  that 
was  a  work  of  charity.  Well,  but  mine  is  a 
work  of  charity,  too."  Thus  Dora  went 
on,  while  the  dangerous  current  of  inclina- 
tion was  gradually  drifting  her  on  towards 
breaking  in  act  the  Fourth  Command- 
ment, which  she  had  all  day  long  been 
breaking  in  thought.  "  Our  Tabernacle 
is  to  be  the  model  of  a  holy — a  very  holy 
thing,  just  the  kind  of  a  thing  which  it  is 
right  to  think  about  on  Sunday.  Then  it 
is  to  be  made  for  a  very  charitable  pur- 
pose. I  am  sure  that  bandaging  the 
cook's  arm  is  no  better  work  than  helping 
a  ragged  school ;  I  don't  think  that  it  is 
really  as  good,  for  aunt's  poor  little  pupils 
are   taught    to  love   God    and    read  the 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  97 


Bible.  No,  it  surely  cannot  be  wrong  to 
assist  such  an  excellent  work  on  any  day 
in  the  seven." 

Dora  unrolled  a  length  of  blue  silk,  took 
out  a  needle  and  threaded  it.  She  had 
almost  succeeded  in  silencing  conscience, 
at  least  for  a  time ;  she  had  almost  per- 
suaded herself  that  in  amusing  herself  she 
was  helping  a  holy  cause;  and  that  God 
would  not  be  displeased  at  her  breaking 
His  commandment,  because  she  was  going 
to  work  for  the  poor.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  more  dangerous  error  than  to  think 
that  the  end  justifies  the  means — that  it  is 
lawful  to  a  Christian  to  do  evil  that  good 
may  come.  Oh,  dear  young  reader !  if 
you  ever  find  yourself  trying  to  quiet  con- 
science by  the  thought  that  to  do  a  great 

good  you  may  do  a  little  harm,  start  back 

7 


98        the  childeen's  tabernacle. 


as  if  you  caught  sight  of  the  tail  of  a 
snake  in  your  path !  Yes,  for  the  serpent 
who  deceived  Eve  is  trying  to  deceive  you 
also.  If  Dora  had  been  honest  and  candid 
with  herself,  she  would  have  seen,  as  her 
fingers  busily  plied  the  needle,  that  she 
was  really  working  for  her  own  pleasure  ; 
that  her  embroidering  a  piece  of  linen  was 
an  utterly  different  thing  from  her  mother's 
bandaging  a  badly-scalded  arm,  and  re- 
lieving a  sufferer's  pain.  To  cases  of 
necessity  such  as  that,  the  Saviour's  words 
truly  applied — "It  is  lawful  to  do  good  on 
the  Sabbath-day  ;"  but  there  was  nothing 
to  justify  Dora  in  following  her  own  in- 
clination, and  working  on  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  holy  worship  and  rest. 

If  there  was  really  no  harm  in  what  she 
was  doing,  why  was  it  that  Dora  started 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  99 


so  when  slie  heard  her  mother's  voice  at 
the  door  of  the  study,  and  why  did  she  so 
hurriedly  thrust  linen,  pattern,  and  silks 
back  into  the  workbox  as  her  gentle 
parent  entered  the  room  ? 

Dora's  back  was  turned  towards  the 
door,  so  that,  from  her  being  between  it 
and  the  table,  Mrs.  Temple  could  not  see 
the  cause  of  the  little  bustling  movement 
which  she  noticed  on  coming  into  the 
study. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  my  love  ?"  asked 
the  lady. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Dora  quickly,  as  she 
succeeded  in  shutting  clown  the  lid  of  her 
workbox.  The  word  was  uttered  in  haste, 
without  reflection ;  but  the  instant  after 
it  had  passed  her  lips  a  pang  shot  through 
the  young  girl's  heart,  for  she  was  aware 


100    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


that,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
she  had  uttered  a  downright  falsehood. 
Conscience  could  be  silenced  no  longer; 
the  second  sin  into  which  Dora  had  been 
drawn  by  her  fear  showed  her  in  a  strong 
light  the  nature  of  the  first,  into  which 
she  had  been  drawn  by  her  love  of 
amusement.  If  she  had  not  been  doing 
what  was  wrong,  she  would  not  have  been 
afraid  lest  her  occupation  should  be  found 
out  by  her  tender,  indulgent  mother. 

Mrs.  Temple  never  doubted  the  word  of 
one  of  her  children,  but  she  could  not  help 
thinking  that  the  manner  of  Dora  was 
strange,  and  she  would  probably  have 
inquired  further  into  its  cause,  had  she 
not  just  then  been  followed  into  the  study 
by  Lucius.  The  boy  had  his  Bible  in  his 
hand,  and  a  thoughtful,  perplexed  look  on 


DRAWN  ASIDE.  101 


his  face,  which  at  once  fixed  the  attention 
of  Mrs.  Temple.  Dora  was  glad  that  her 
mother's  attention  should  be  drawn  by 
anything  from  herself,  for  otherwise  she 
could  not  have  hidden  her  confusion.  She 
seated  herself  on  a  stool  by  the  window, 
with  her  face  turned  away  from  her  parent> 
and  there  remained  a  silent  listener  to  the 
following  conversation  between  Mrs.  Tem- 
ple and  her  son.  Whether  that  conversa- 
tion was  likely  to  make  Dora's  conscience 
easier  or  not,  I  leave  the  reader  to  judge. 


VIIL 

HAYE  been  looking  out  for  a  type, 
mamma,  as  you  wished  us  to  do,"  said 
Lucius,  seating  himself  on  the  sofa  on 
which  his  parent  had  taken  her  place, 
and  resting  his  Bible  upoD  her  knee.  "  I 
am  not  sure  whether  I  may  not  have  heard 
already  from  you  that  Abraham's  sacri- 
ficing his  dear  son  is  a  kind  of  shadow  of 
God's  sacrificing  His  only  Son  ;  at  any 
rate,  I  thought  of  this  as  the  type  which 
I  should  choose  to  speak  of  in  the  even- 

ing." 

(102) 


SACRIFICES.  103 


<c  You  could  hardly  have  chosen  a  more 
remarkable  type,  my  boy.  I  believe  that 
Abraham  was  commanded  to  sacrifice  his 
son  not  only  to  try  the  fond  father's  faith 
and  obedience,  but  also  that  Isaac  ascend- 
ing Mount  Moriah  with  the  wood  for  the 
burnt-offering  on  his  shoulder,  might  be 
to  the  end  of  time  a  type  of  the  blessed 
Saviour  beariDg  the  cross  on  which  He 
was  to  suffer  on  Calvary." 

"  Ah !  mother,  it  is  all  that  suffering  and 
sacrificing  that  is  such  a  difficulty  to  me !" 
exclaimed  Lucius.  "Why  is  so  much 
suffering  needed  at  all?"  The  boy  looked 
earnestly  into  his  mother's  face  as  he 
spoke. 

"  It  is  a  sad  mystery,  Lucius ;  we  do  not 
fully  understand  it ;  but  one  thing  is  cer- 
tain, not  only  from  what  we  read  in  the 


104:        THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


Bible,  but  from  what  we  see  in  the  world 
around  us,  and  that  thing  is  that  sin  and 
suffering  are  bound  together,  we  cannot 
separate  them  ;  suffering  is  the  shadow  of 
sin  and  must  follow  it ;  the  wages  of  sin 
is  death  (Kom.  vi.  23). 

"  But  you  have  taught  us  that  God  is 
love,"  said  Lucius,  thoughtfully. 

"  Surely  God  is  love,"  replied  Mrs. 
Temple  ;  "  God  loves  man,  but  God  hates 
sin,  which  is  the  greatest  enemy  of  man. 
It  is  God's  merciful  will  that  man  should 
be  saved  both  from  sin  here,  and  from  its 
most  terrible  punishment  hereafter." 

"The  Holy  of  holies  is  a  difficulty  to 
me,"  observed  Lucius ;  "  why  should  no 
man,  save  the  high  priest,  be  suffered  to 
go  in*  or  draw  near  the  mercy-seat  of 
God?" 


SACRIFICES.  105 


"Ask  yourself  what  lesson  this  would 
have  taught  you  had  you  been  one  of  the 
children  of  Israel,"  said  Mrs.  Temple. 
"  When  you  beheld  the  Tabernacle  with 
the  wondrous  cloud  resting  upon  it,  and 
gazed  through  the  opening  in  front  on  the 
veil  which  hid  from  your  eyes  the  moro 
dazzling  glory  within — that  glory  which 
was  a  sign  of  the  immediate  presence  of 
God,  into  which  on  pain  of  death  you 
dared  not  enter — what  would  have  been 
the  thought  uppermost  in  your  mind  ?" 

"The  thought  that  God  was  terribly 
holy,  and  that  no  human  being  was  fit  to 
come  near  Him,"  replied  Lucius,  gravely. 

"But  one  man  was  allowed  to  draw 
near,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple. 

"  Only  the  high  priest,  and  that  with 
the  blood  of  a  sacrifice,"  said  her  son. 


106        THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


"And  so  mankind  were  taught  that 
there  is  a  way  to  approach  a  holy  God, 
but  only  one  way ;  they  were  taught  that 
sacrifice  was  needful,  that  without  shed- 
ding OF  BLOOD  THERE  IS  NO  REMISSION  (for- 
given ess  of  sin),  Heb.  ix.  22. 

"But,  mother,  surely  God  does  not 
require  the  blood  of  bulls  and  goats !" 
cried  Lucius. 

Mrs.  Temple  in  reply  turned  over  the 
leaves  of  the  Bible,  till  she  found  the 
fortieth  Psalm,  and  then  read  aloud, 
"  Burnt-offering  and  sacrifice  hast  Thou  not 
required.  Then  said  I,  Lo !  I  come ;  in  the 
volume  of  the  booh  it  is  written  of  Me,  1 
delight  to  do  Thy  will,  0  my  God.'1  It  is 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  who  says  this  by 
the  mouth  of  David.  The  blood  of  lambs 
and  other  creatures  was  worthless,  save 


SACRIFICES.  107 


as  signs  and  pledges  of  the  precious  blood 
of  Christ  which  cleanseth  from  all  sin, 
(John  i.  7,)  the  blood  of  Him  who  is  indeed 
the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the 
sin  of  the  world  (John  i.  29). 

"  It  seems  so  sad  that  the  Lord,  who 
had  done  no  sin,  should  have  to  bear  all 
that  agony  on  the  cross,"  murmured 
Lucius. 

"  Christ  bore  it  in  our  stead,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple  ;  "  He  suffered  the  punishment  for 
sin,  that  sinners,  repenting  and  believing, 
might  be  saved,  forgiven,  aud  made  happy 
forever."  ' 

"  I  still  cannot  clearly  make  out  the  use 
of  sacrifices  —  I  mean  of  animals,"  said 
Lucius. 

"  They  taught  that  one  being  may  suffer 
instead  of  another,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple, 


108        THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


speaking  slowly,  that  her  son  might  weigh 
well  every  word.  "When  an  Israelite 
brought  a  lamb  for  sacrifice  it  was  just  as 
if  he  had  said,  '  O  holy  God,  I  know  that  I 
am  a  sinner,  and  that  I  deserve  to  suffer 
for  my  sin ;  but  in  mercy  accept  the  life  of 
this  lamb  instead  of  mine.'  It  was  to  teach 
this  same  lesson  that  Aaron  the  high 
priest  was  commanded  to  lay  his  hands  on 
the  head  of  a  living  goat,  and  confess  over 
him  the  sins  of  all  the  children  of  Israel. 
The  scape-goat  (as  it  was  called),  was  then 
sent  away  into  the  desert,  bearing  away 
with  him  all  the  sins  which  had  been 
solemnly  confessed  over  him  by  the  high 
priest  of  God.  With  a  thankful  heart  and 
lightened  conscience  must  every  faithful 
Israelite  have  seen  the  scape-goat  led 
away  from  the  camp.     *  My  sins  are  taken 


SACRIFICES.  109 


from  me,  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west/ 
he  might  say,  '  I  shall  never,  never  have  to 
bear  that  terrible  burden  myself.'  " 

"  But  why  have  we  no  scape-goats  and 
no  sacrifices  now  ?  "  asked  Lucius  ;  while 
Dora  silently  thought,  "  What  a  comfort 
it  would  be  to  see  all  one's  sins  carried 
far  away  from  us  forever  !  " 

"  We  need  no  more  such  sacrifices  now," 
replied  Mrs.  Temple,  "because  the  One 
great  Sacrifice  which  Christ  made  of  Him- 
self on  the  cross  is  so  infinitely  precious, 
that  it  is  enough  to  save  a  world  that  was 
lost  from  sin.  We  need  no  scape-goat 
now,  for  when  Christ  went  forth  to  die, 
He  carried  away  with  Him  the  burden  of 
the  guilt  of  all  His  people." 

"  But  then,  mother,  is  every  one's  sin 
taken  away,  is  every  one  sure  to   enter 


110   THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


heaven,  the  real  Holy  of  holies  ?  "  asked 
Lucius.  The  question  was  a  very  impor- 
tant one,  and  poor  Dora's  heart  beat  fast 
as  she  listened  to  hear  what  answer  her 
parent  would  give  to  the  boy. 

"  No,  my  son,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple,  "  for 
not  every  one  has  true  faith  in  the  Lord 
and  His  Sacrifice,  that  faith  which  makes 
us  repent  of  sin,  be  sorry  for  sin,  confess 
it  and  try  to  forsake  it.  We  know  that 
(two  only  excepted)  all  the  Israelites  above 
a  certain  age  never  reached  the  good  land 
of  Canaan,  but  all  died  in  the  desert.  And 
why  was  this  ?  It  was  because  they  had 
sinned  against  God.  They  might  have 
sacrifices  but  they  had  not  true  faith  ;  they 
might  give  up  lambs,  but  they  gave  not  up 
sin  ;  they  might  have  God's  presence  in  the 
tabernacle  to  guide  them,  but  they  did  not 


SACRIFICES.  Ill 


let  their  conduct  be  guided  by  the  light  of 
His  holy  Word." 

"  It  almost  seems  to  me,"  observed 
Lucius,  "  as  if  the  Israelites  wandering 
about  in  the  desert  were  types  of  us — of 
all  who  are  now  called  Christian  people." 

Mrs.  Temple  smiled  with  pleasure  to  see 
that  her  son  was  beginning  really  to  un- 
derstand a  little  of  Old  Testament  teaching 
by  types.  "  Yes,  dear  bojr,"  she  replied, 
I  the  history  of  the  Israelites  is  just  like  a 
picture  or  type  of  what  is  now  happening 
to  ourselves  in  our  journey  through  life 
towards  heaven,  our  promised  *  Canaan. 
They  were  first  in  bondage  to  cruel  Pha- 
raoh ;  we  are  born  into  the  world  in  bon- 
dage to  sin.  The  Israelites  at  the  begin- 
ning of  their  journey  passed  through  the 
Bed  Sea ;  St.  Paul  shows  us  that  this  was 


112    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


a  type  of  Christian  baptism  (1  Cor.  x.  2) . 
I  could  go  on  to  sliow  you  how  the  history 
of  Israel  is  full  of  many  other  interesting 
types  of  our  own,  but  you  have  heard 
enough  for  the  present.  There  are  just  a 
few  most  important  lessons  which  I  would 
wish  to  impress  on  your  mind.     They  are : 

"  First,  that  we  all  are  sinners. 

"  Secondly,  that  we  can  only  be  forgiven  j 
and  enter  heaven  through  the  Sacrifice  of 
our  Lord  on  the  cross. 

"  Thirdly,  that  His  Sacrifice  takes  away 
all  sin  from  those  who  have  true  faith  in 
their  hearts;  that  faith  whose  reality  is 
shown  by  its  making  us  repent  of  and  try. 
by  God's  help,  to  give  up  our  sins." 


IX. 


(OKA  felt  very  unhappy.    She  had 

broken  the  holy  rest  of  the  Lord's 

day;    she    had    repeated    prayers 

without  praying,  heard  God's  Word 

read  without  attending,  had  made  a  vain 

show  of  religion ;  and  at  last  had  worked 

and  worked  hard   at  her  needle,  as  she 

might  have  done  on  any  other  day  of  the 

week.     Dora    had    disobeyed    what    she 

knew  to  be  the  wishes  of  her  mother,  and 

then  to  hide  such  disobedience  had  uttered 

a  lie  to  deceive  her !     The  girl  could  not 

8  (113) 


114    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


conceal  from  herself  that  she  had  done  what 
was  wrong — exceedingly  wrong ;  that  she 
had  displeased  a  holy  God,  whose  eyes  aro 
in  every  place  beholding  the  evil  and  the 
good. 

"  Oh,  what  can  I — what  ought  I  to  do 
now !"  thought  Dora,  as  slowly  and  sadly 
she  went  up  to  her  own  little  room.  Con- 
science gave  an  instant  reply,  "Retrace 
your  steps  as  quickly  as  you  can,  own 
your  fault  to  your  mother,  and  ask  forgive- 
ness from  God."  But  Dora  was  very 
unwilling  to  do  this ;  she  was  inclined  to 
take  a  kind  of  half-way  course. 

"I  need  not  say  anything  to  mamma 
about  what  I  have  done,"  thought  Dora. 
"I  will  not  touch  my  pretty  work  any 
more  on  Sunday ;  and  to-morrow,  as  soon 
as  I  get  up,  I  will  unpick  every  stitch  of 


CONCEALMENT.  115 


what  I  have  been  sewing  to-day.  That 
will  be  a  good  punishment  for  me;  yes, 
that  will  be  the  right  kind  of  punishment 
for  breaking  the  Fourth  Command- 
ment." 

Dora  half  satisfied  her  conscience  by 
making  this  resolution  to  undo  what  ought 
not  to  have  been  done ;  but  the  little  girl 
made  a  grievous  mistake  in  supposing 
that  any  self-inflicted  punishment  can  take 
away  sin.  We  must  go  straight  to  the 
Lord  for  forgiveness,  and  ask  it  only  for 
the  sake  of  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  suffered 
to  take  away  guilt ;  and  when  we  have 
sinned  against  our  fellow-creatures,  as  well 
as  against  our  Heavenly  Father,  we  must 
honestly  and  openly  confess  to  them  what 
we  have  done,  and  ask  their  forgiveness. 
Dora  shrank  from   doing  this ;  she  was 


116         THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


extremely  unwilling  to  own  to  her  mother 
that  she  had  been  sewing  on  Sunday. 

"  Perhaps  mamma  would  take  away  from 
me  the  making  of  the  embroidered  curtains 
altogether,"  thought  Dora,  "  and  give  it  to 
Agnes  instead;  and  then  all  the  family 
would  know  the  reason,  and  I  should  be 
lowered  in  the  opinion  even  of  little  Elsie  ! 
Oh,  how  dreadfully  ashamed  I  should  feel, 
and  what  a  bitter  disappointment  it  would 
be  to  see  the  work  in  the  hands  of  another, 
after  I  have  taken  such  pains  to  draw  out 
that  beautiful  pattern !  Worst  of  all,  Aunt 
Theodora  would  hear  of  my  fault  when  wo 
go  to  be  with  her  at  Christmas.  She 
would  be  sure  to  ask  why  I  had  not 
embroidered  the  veil  and  the  curtains,  for 
she  thinks  that  I  embroider  so  well.  Oh, 
I  could  not  bear  that  the  aunt  whom  I 


CONCEALMENT.  117 


love  so  mucli — who  loves  me  so  much— 
should  know  what  I  have  done !  No,  no, 
there  is  no  use  in  speaking  about  the 
matter  at  all ;  I  will  punish  myself  by  the 
tiresome  unpicking,  and  then  all  will  be 
right." 

Would  all  be  right?  "Were  Dora  to 
punish  herself  ever  so  severely,  would  all 
be  right  ?  No,  dear  reader,  no !  self-pun- 
ishment cannot  wash  away  sin. 

"  Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  forever  flow, 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone, 
Thou  must  save,  and  Thou  alono." 

Dora  was  only  deceiving  herself  now,  as 
she  had  an  hour  before  deceived  her  in- 
dulgent mother. 

In  the  evening,  after  tea-time,  the  family 
assembled  again  in  the  study.  Their 
usual   employment   on   Sunday   evenings 


118         THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


had  been  to  sing  hymns  with  their  mother, 
each  in  succession  choosing  a  favorite 
hymn ;  but  the  whoopiug-cough  had  for 
weeks  past  put  a  stop  to  all  singing,  and  it 
had  cost  Mrs.  Temple  some  thought  to  find 
a  way  of  making  the  evening  Sabbath 
hour  as  pleasant  to  her  family  as  it  had 
usually  been.  The  searching  in  the  Biblo 
for  types  had  been  a  new  kind  of  occupa- 
tion, and  had  made  the  afternoon  seem  less 
long  to  the  young  prisoners  at  home  than 
it  might  otherwise  have  appeared  during 
the  absence  of  their  mother  at  church. 
The  family  circle  looked  a  very  happy  one 
by  the  light  of  the  fire  round  which  they 
gathered ;  for  autumn  was  beginning,  the 
weather,  though  not  very  cold,  was  damp ; 
and  the  illness  from  which  the  children 
w  ere  recovering  made  warmth  and  dryness 


CONCEALMENT.  119 


SO  desirable,  that  the  fire  was  always 
lighted  at  sunset. 

"I  like  when  we  sit  so  cosy  together 
before  the  blazing  fire !"  exclaimed  little 
blue-eyed  Elsie,  cuddliug  close  to  her 
mother.  "  I  hope  that  Eliza  won't  bring 
in  the  candles ;  no  one  wants  candles  to 
talk  by.  Agnes,  you  won't  cough  so  badly 
if  you  put  your  feet  here  on  the  fender ; 
please,  Lucius,  give  the  fire  a  good  stir, 
and  make  the  red  flames  leap  up  and 
dance.  Are  we  not  a  happy  party !"  she 
added,  squeezing  tightly  her  mother's 
hand  in  both  of  her  own. 

Smiling  faces  gave  the  reply.  There 
was  but  one  face  that  wore  no  smile.  Dora 
sat  on  the  other  side  of  her  mother,  but 
the  girl  had  drawn  her  chair  a  little  back 
from   the  half-circle   before  the  fire,  and 


120        THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


held  a  hand-screen  before  her  face,  not 
really  to  protect  it  from  the  scorching 
blaze,  but  that  it  might  not  be  seen  by 
the  fire-light.  Dora  was  glad,  though  not 
for  the  same  reason  as  Elsie,  that  Eliza 
did  not  bring  in  the  candles. 


-e& 


X. 


)AMMA,  I've  been  trying  to  jBLnd 
a  type;  I've  been  looking  all 
through  my  Bible  pictures,"  said 
blue-eyed  Elsie. 
"  And  did  you  succeed  in  finding  a  type, 
my  darling?"  asked  Mrs.  Temple,  smiling 
at  the  gravity  of  the  child,  -whom  she 
thought  scarcely  likely  to  be  able  to  dis- 
cover the  meaning  of  the  most  simple 
Scripture  figure. 

"I  don't  know — I'm  not  sure,"  said 
little  Elsie  ;  "  but  I've  found  two  pictures 
— one  in  the  Old  Testament  and  one  in 

(121) 


122      the  children's  tabernacle. 


the  New  Testament — and  they  are  rather 
like  each  other;  so,  you  know,  dear 
mamma,  it  seemed  as  if  one  might  be 
a  sort  of  a  type." 

"And  what  were  your  pictures  about, 
Elsie,  pet?"  asked  Lucius,  stroking  the 
hair  of  his  youngest  sister,  of  whom  the 
schoolboy  was  very  fond. 

"  One  picture  was  of  Elijah  raising  the 
poor  widow's  son,  and  the  other  was  of 
the  Lord's  raising  a  widow's  son.  These 
were  two  things  like  each  other,"  said 
Elsie ;  "  but,"  she  added,  shaking  her 
curly  head  thoughtfully,  "I  can't  tell  if 
there  was  any  type." 

"I  daresay  that  little  Elsie  is  right, 
and  that  Elijah  was  a  type  of  the  Lord !" 
cried  Lucius,  "  for  did  they  not  both  fast 
forty  da}^s  in  the  wilderness  ?" 


DEAD  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.       12  3 


<i 


I  thought  that  Elijah  was  rather  a 
type  of  John  the  Baptist,"  observed  Ag- 
nes, 

"Yes,  he  was  so,"  said  Mrs.  Temple. 
"  Our  Lord's  own  words  show  that  John, 
!  the  Voice  crying  in  the  wilderness,'  came 
in  the  spirit  and  power  of  the  prophet 
Elijah,  though  John  worked  no  miracle. 
Yet  in  the  two  instances  which  your 
brother  and  Elsie  have  noticed,  the  rais- 
ing of  the  dead  and  the  forty  days'  fast  in 
the  desert,  Elijah's  history  shadows  forth 
that  of  One  far  greater  than  himself.  Has 
my  dove  Amy  thought  of  any  Scripture 
type  ?"  said  the  mother,  turning  towards 
her  young  daughter. 

Amy  hesitated  a  little  ;  she  was  always 
distrustful  of  herself,  and  in  this  was 
a  great  contrast  to  Elsie.    Mrs.  Temple 


124      the  children's  tabernacle. 


smiled  encouragingly  upon  her  little  girl. 
"I  see  that  there  is  something  in  your 
head,"  said  the  mother ;  "  tell  us,  my  love, 
what  you  have  thought  of.  If  you  have 
made  a  mistake,  I  will  try  to  set  you 
right ;  we  are  at  least  likely  to  gain  some 
increase  of  Scriptural  knowledge  by  talk- 
ing over  such  subjects  as  these." 

"  I  thought  at  first  that  I  should  never 
find  out  anything,"  said  Amy ;  "  though 
you  explained  to  us  so  much  about  types 
this  morning,  dear  mamma,  I  felt  quite 
puzzled  when  I  tried  to  make  out  one  for 
myself.  At  last  a  verse  from  the  third 
chapter  of  John  came  into  my  mind,  and 
I  wondered  whether  our  Lord  Himself 
taught  Nicodemus  in  it  something  about 
a  type.  Perhaps  Nicodemus  understood 
the    Lord's  meaning,  but    I    conld  .not 


DEATH  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.       125 


understand  it — that  is  to  say,  not  clearly — ■ 
so  I  thought  that  I  had  better  ask  you 
about  it,  mamma." 

"What  is  the  verse?"  asked  several 
voices  at  once. 

Amy  folded  her  hands  reverentially  as 
she  repeated  the  sacred  words  once  spoken 
by  our  blessed  Redeemer.  Mrs.  Temple 
would  never  allow  her  children  to  gabble 
over  carelessly  any  verse  of  Scripture. — 
" '  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the 
ivilderness,  so  must  the  Son  of  Man  he  lifted 
up,  that  tohosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  eternal  life,9 "  (John  iii.  14, 15.) 

"  Most  certainly,  our  Lord  spoke  then 
ol  a  most  remarkable  type,"  said  Mrs. 
Temple.  "  To  what  coming  event  in  his 
own  life  did  our  Saviour  refer  in  the 
expression  '  be  lifted  up '  ?" 


126      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  To  His  being  lifted  up  on  the  cross," 
said  Amy,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice. 

"  And  why  was  the  Son  of  God  lifted 
up  on  the  dreadful  cross?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"  That  we — that  all  who  believe  in  Him 
shall  have  eternal  life,"  replied  Amy 
Temple. 

"  It  was  indeed  as  a  type  of  this  great 
salvation  from  eternal  death  that  the 
brazen  serpent  was  lifted  up  by  Moses," 
said  the  lady.  "  Do  you  remember  what 
had  happened  to  the  Israelites  to  make 
the  raising  of  the  brass  serpent  needful 
to  save  them  from  destruction  brought  on 
by  sin?" 

As  Amy  did  not  immediately  reply  to 
the  question,  Elsie  eagerly  put  in  her 
word. 


DEAD  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.        127 


"  You  told  us  all  about  it  last  Suftday, 
mamma;  I  remember  the  story  quite 
well.  The  people  had  been  wicked,  very 
wicked,  and  so  fiery  serpents  came  amongst 
them  and  bit  them ;  and  many — I  don't 
know  how  many — Israelites  died,  because 
no  doctor  knew  how  to  cure  them." 

"  "Were  those  deadly  bites  a  type  of  sin 
whose  wages  are  death  ?'*  asked  Lucius. 

"They  were  so,  my  son,"  said  his 
mother.  "Man  had  no  way  of  saving 
those  who  had  received  the  deadly  wound, 
so  God  himself  showed  Moses  a  way.  The 
Lord  bade  him  lift  up  on  high  a  serpent  of 
brass,  and  promised  that  whoso  looked 
upon  it  should  live." 

"I  cannot  imagine  how  mere  looking 
could  do  the  least  good  to  a  person  dying  of 
the  poison  of  a  snake-bite,"  observed  Agnes. 


128      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  The  Almighty  willed  that  it  should  be 
so,"  said  Mrs.  Temple ;  "  He  willed  that 
the  look  of  faith  should  bring  healing  to  a 
sick  body,  as  the  look  of  faith  at  a 
crucified  Saviour  still  brings  healing  to 
the  sin-wounded  soul.  When  I  read  how 
my  Lord  says,  through  the  prophet  Isaiah, 
t  Look  unto  Me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the  ends  of 
the  earth1  (Isaiah' xl v.  22),  I  think  of  the 
brazen  serpent,  and  know  that  I  have  but 
to  believe  in  Christ  and  be  saved." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  look  of 
faith  ?"  inquired  Agnes. 

" Faith  is  simply  believing"  replied  Mrs. 
Temple.  "  To  look  to  Christ  is  to  believe 
that  He  is  able  and  willing  to  save  us,  and 
that  none  can  save  us  but  He." 

Dora,  who  had  chosen,  as  we  know,  to 
sit  a  little  drawn  back  from  the  circle,,  and 


DEAD  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.       129 


with  a  screen  in  her  hand,  now  dropped 
the  screen  on  her  lap,  and  leant  forward, 
so  that  the  red  flickering  gleam  of  the 
fire-light  shone  on  her  face  as  she  anxiously 
asked,  "Then  are  we  quite,  quite  safe, 
Sure  never  to  be  punished  for  anything 
evil  that  we  have  done,  if  only  we  have 
faith  that  the  Lord  will  save  us  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  the  faith  be  real,  living  faith," 
replied  Mrs.  Temple. 

"Are  there  then  two  kinds  of  faith?" 
inquired  Lucius. 

"  Yes,"  answered  his  mother  ;  "  we  read 
in  the  Bible  of  two  kinds  of  faith  or 
belief — one  dead  and  one  living." 

"I  cannot  understand  that  at  all,"  said 
Amy. 

"  I  will  try  to  explain,"  said  the  lady 

"  and  I  ask  you,  my  children,  to  give  me 

9 


130   THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


your  full  attention,  for  this  is  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  importance.  You  all  believe, 
do  you  not,  that  there  is  an  Emperor 
of  Germany  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  the  children :  and 
Elsie  added  with  a  little  nod,  "  I  believe 
there  is  such  a  man,  though  I  never  have 
seen  him." 

"  Now  does  your  belief  in  the  existence 
of  the  Emperor — that  is,  your  faith  in  it 
— does  it  make  the  smallest  difference  in 
your  actions,  or  words,  or  feelings?"  in- 
quired Mrs.  Temple. 

"  No,  why  should  it  ?"  cried  Lucius. 

"  The  Emperor  does  not  care  for  us ;  he 
knows  nothing  about  us,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Then  your  faith  in  the  Emperor  is  a 
dead  faith,  it  has  no  effect  on  your  hearts,' 
observed  Mrs.  Temple.     "  And  this  is  th* 


DEAD  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.       131 


kind  of  faith  which  many  persons,  alas  ! 
have  in  the  Lord.  They  believe  in  a 
careless  sort  of  way  that  Christ  once  lived 
in  the  world,  and  died  on  the  cross,  but 
they  believe  only  with  the  head,  not  with 
the  heart.  And  this  is  dead  faith,  a  kind 
of  faith  which  never  can  save  us." 

"  But  what  is  living  faith,  then  ?"  asked 
Amy. 

"  When  our  belief  makes  us  really  love 
Him  who  first  loved  us,  when  the  thought 
of  Christ's  dying  for  sin  makes  us  hate  sin, 
that  cost  Him  so  dear,  then  our  faith  must 
be  living  faith  ;  and  thus  looking  to  the 
Lord  we  are  saved." 

Dora  sighed  and  drew  her  head  back 
again  into  the  shadow.  Hers  was  not  a 
faith  that  had  kept  her  from  sin — hers  was 
not  a  faith  that  made  her  now  obey  the 


132      the  children's  tabernacle. 


whisper  of  conscience,  confess  her  fault  to 
her  mother,  and  make  what  amends  she 
could  for  what  she  had  done. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  that  when  an  Israel- 
ite had  been  cured  of  his  wound  by  look- 
ing at  the  brazen  serpent,  he  did  not  go 
and  stroke  and  play  with  the  fiery  reptile 
that  had  bitten  him,"  observed  Lucius, 
who  had  the  clearest  head  amongst  the 
party,  and  best  entered  into  the  meaning 
of  types. 

"  No,  he  would  run  away  from  the  hor- 
rid creatures,  or  try  to  kill  them ;  he 
would  put  his  foot  upon  the  fiery  serpents 
and  crush  them — crush  them,"  cried  Elsie, 
stamping  her  little  foot  on  the  hearthrug, 
to  add  force  to  her  words. 

"So  every  one  who  has  living  faith 
dreads  and  hates  sin,  and  tries  to  destroy 


DEAD  FAITH   AND  LIVING  FAITH.       133 


it,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple.  "  We  will  not 
carelessly  trifle  with  it  if  we  believe  from 
our  Jiearts  that  our  blessed  Redeemer  suf- 
fered because  of  our  sins." 

"What  a  very  holy  thing  was  that 
brazen  serpent  which  Moses  set  up  on  a 
pole !"  exclaimed  Amy.  "  Did  he  not 
afterwards  put  it  into  the  ark,  that  the 
Israelites  might  carry  it  about  with  them 
wherever  they  went,  and  treasure  it  as 
they  did  the  tables  of  stone  on  which  the 
Commandments  were  written?" 

"  We  do  not  read  of  Moses  putting  the 
brazen  serpent  into  the  ark,"  replied  Mrs. 
Temple ;  "  but  the  Israelites  must  have 
carried  it  with  them  in  their  wanderings 
through  the  desert,  and  have  taken  it  into 
the  Promised  Land,  for  we  read  of  the 
brazen  serpent  being  greatly  honored  by 


134      the  children's  tabernacle. 


the  people  more  than  seven  hundred  years 
after  it  was  lifted  up."     (1  Kings  xviii.  4.) 

"  Ifc  was  quite  right  that  the  Israelites 
should  honor  it  very,  very  much,"  cried 
Elsie,  "because  the  brazen  serpent  had 
saved  so  many  people  from  dying." 

"You  mistake,  my  child,"  said  her 
mother.  "  The  brass  image  had  no  power 
in  itself  to  save  a  single  creature  from 
death ;  it  was  of  no  use  at  all  but  as  a 
means  appointed  by  God.  The  brazen 
serpent  was  a  type  of  salvation ;  and  when 
the  Jews  took  to  burning  incense  to  the 
mere  type,  that  is,  when  they  paid  to  it  the 
honor  which  is  due  to  God  alone,  they  fell 
into  sin." 

The  younger  children  looked  surprised  ; 
and  Amy  murmured,  "  Then  can  even  a  holy 
thing  lead  men  to  do  what  is  wrong  ?" 


DEAD  FAITH  AND  LIVING  FAITH.       135 


"Men  do  wrong,  exceedingly  wrong, 
when  they  put  anything,  however  holy 
it  may  seem  in  their  eyes,  in  the  place  of 
God,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple.  "  When 
good  king  Hezeldah  saw  that  his  people 
were  honoring  the  brazen  serpent  too 
much,  what  do  you  think  that  he  did?" 

"  Perhaps  he  locked  it  up,  so  that  no  one 
could  get  at  it,"  cried  little  Elsie. 

"  Hezekiah  took  a  much  stronger  mea- 
sure than  locking  up  the  image,"  said  her 
mother.  "The  good  king  broke  tho 
brazen  serpent  into  pieces,  and  called  it 
Nehustan,  or  a  piece  of  brass,  to  show 
both  by  word  and  deed  that  the  most  holy 
and  interesting  relic  may  lead  to  the  sin  of 
idolatry,  if  it  draw  away  our  thoughts 
and  our  hearts  from  the  Lord  who  alone 
can  give  us  salvation." 


XL 


S  we  seem  to  be  giving  in  our  types 

youngest  by  youngest,  it  is  Dora's 

turn  now  to  tell  us  whicli  she  has 

chosen,"  said  Lucius. 

"  Ah !   Dora  will  have  found  out   the 

most  interesting  type  of  all,  Dora  is  so 

clever!"  cried  Elsie,  who  had  great  faith 

in  the  intelligence  of  the  brighter  of  the 

twins. 

All  eyes  were  turned  towards  Dora  as 

she  sat  in  the  shadow,  but  Dora's   own 

eyes  were  bent  on  the  hearthrug.     She 
(136) 


LEPROSY.  137 


had  been  so  much  taken  up  on  that  Sun- 
day, first  with  her  embroidery,  then  with 
the  conversation  between  her  mother  and 
Lucius,  and  the  painful  struggle  in  her 
own  mind  with  an  upbraiding  conscience, 
that  Dora  had  not  even  thought  of  looking 
out  for  a  type  in  Scripture. 

"  What  have  you  chosen,  Dora  ?"  asked 
Lucius. 

"  I  have  not  chosen  any  type  yet,  I 
have  not  had  time,"  stammered  out  Dora, 
confused  and  mortified  to  find  herself  be- 
hind even  little  Elsie,  who  looked  aston- 
ished at  the  words  of  her  sister. 

"  Not  time !  why,  you  have  had  as  much 
time  as  any  of  us,"  said  Agnes.  "  What 
were  you  doing  all  the  afternoon  while 
mamma  was  at  church  ?" 

"Nothing  particular,"  said  Dora,  with 


138      the  children's  tabernacle. 


a  little  confusion.  Again  a  pang  shot 
through  the  heart  of  the  conscious  girl 
for  she  knew  that  she  was  again  staining 
her  lips  with  untruth. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  were 
sitting  from  two  o'clock  till  five,  with  your 
hands  before  you,  and  thinking  about 
nothing  at  all,"  said  Lucius. 

"  Perhaps  Dora  was  reading  that  inte- 
resting book  about  the  poor  French  Pro- 
testants," suggested  Amy. 

Dora  did  not  speak.  She  was  too  well 
pleased,  alas !  that  her  family  should  be- 
lieve that  she  had  been  thus  engaged, 
though  she  knew  that  she  had  not  so 
much  as  opened  the  volume  in  question. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,  my  love, 
for  you  to  have  entered  into  the  occupa- 
tion which  interests  your  brothers   and 


LEPKOSY.  139 

sisters,"  said  Mrs.  Temple,  in  a  tone  of 
gentle  reproof.  "Even  reading  a  nice 
Sunday  book  like  the  one  Amy  mentioned 
may  become  a  selfish  amusement,  if  it 
keeps  us  from  adding  a  little  to  the  gen- 
eral pleasure." 

"  I  never  knew  Dora  take  such  a  read- 
ing fit  before,"  muttered  Lucius ;  "  she 
generally  likes  to  use  her  fingers  more 
than  her  head." 

The  remark  was  a  very  commonplace 
one,  yet  it  added  to  Dora's  confusion. 
Mrs.  Temple,  noticing  her  daughter's  look 
of  annoyance,  though  she  attributed  it  to 
a  different  cause  than  the  true  one,  turned 
the  conversation  by  asking  Agnes  whether 
she  had  thought  of  a  Scriptural  type. 

"Yes,  mamma,"  replied  Agnes.  "  I  be- 
lieve that  leprosy  is  a  type  of  sin,  and  the 


140   THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


cure  of  lepers  a  type  of  the  cure  of  sin 
just  as  the  looking  up  at  the  brazen  ser- 
pent was  a  cure  for  the  deadly  bites." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  my  dear  girl/ 
said  her  mother. 

"  What  is  leprosy  ?"  asked  little  Elsie 

"A  dreadful  kind  of  illness,"  replied 
Agnes ;  and  as  she  seemed  disinclined  to 
say  more,  perhaps  from  fear  of  bringing  on 
her  cough  by  speaking,  her  mother  con- 
tinued the  description  of  this  terrible  type 
of  sin. 

"  This  frightful  malady  is  still  well- 
known  in  the  East,"  said  Mrs.  Temple. 
"  Tour  uncle,  who  came  lately  from  India, 
has  told  me  that  he  has  seen  many  poor 
lepers  there.  The  leprosy  makes  them 
loathsome  to  the  eye ;  it  creeps  over  their 
bodies;  it  wastes   their  flesh;    when    it 


LEPROSY.  141 

fastens  on  their  hands,  it  will  make  the 
very  fingers  drop  off!" 

"  Oh,  how  dreadful !"  exclaimed  all  the 
children. 

"Dreadful  indeed,  but  not  so  dreadful 
as  the  sin  which  it  represents,"  said  their 
mother  sadly  ;  "  for  the  soul's  sickness  is 
more  dangerous,  its  effects  infinitely  more 
lasting." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  how  leprosy  is  a  type 
of  sin,"  observed  Amy. 

"  I  think  that  we  are  led  to  believe  it  to 
be  such  by  the  very  particular  commands 
regarding  it  which  we  find  in  the  law  of 
Moses,"  said  Mrs.  Temple. 

"Did  poor  people  with  leprosy  never 
get  well  again  ?"  asked  Elsie,  with  pity  ex- 
pressed on  her  round  little  face. 

"  Yes,  they  did  sometimes  recover,"  said 


142      the  children's  tabernacle. 


her  mother,  "but  not  by  such  means  as 
are  used  in  cases  of  other  sickness.  Not 
a  doctor,  but  a  priest,  was  to  judge 
whether  the  leper  were  really  cured,  or,  as 
it  was  called,  dean  ;  and  he  had  to  bring  a 
special  offering  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
Lord." 

"  I  suppose  the  offering  was  that  sheep 
which  we  see  in  the  picture  ?"  said  Elsie, 
for  the  illustrated  Bible  had  again  been 
brought  and  placed  upon  Mrs.  Temple's 
knee,  and  the  firelight  was  sufficiently 
bright  to  show  a  picture  representing 
a  cured  leper  coming  to  the  high-priest, 
to  find  which  illustration  Mrs.  Temple 
had  turned  over  the  pages. 

"  That  picture  shows  but  a  part  of  the 
offering,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple.  "When 
the  candles  come  in,  I  will  read  to  you 


LEPEOSY.  143 


from  the  '  Pictorial  History  of  Palestine/ 
written  by  the  famous  Dr.  Kitto,  a  de 
scrip tion    of    a    very   peculiar   ceremony 
which  took  place   before  the  sheep  and 
two  rams  were  slain  as  a  sin-offering." 

"  Ah !  here  come  the  candles — just  when 
we  want  them !"  cried  Elsie,  as  Eliza 
made  her  appearance. 

"  I'll  get  Dr.  Kitto's  big  book  !"  ex- 
claimed Lucius,  jumping  up  from  his  seat 
by  the  fire. 

The  candles  were  placed  on  the  table 
near  enough  to  Mrs.  Temple  to  enable  her 
to  read  without  quitting  her  warm  seat, 
but  merely  turning  her  chair  round  to  the 
table.  She  then  read  aloud  the  following 
extract  from  the  work  of  the  learned 
doctor : 

" '  When  a  person  was  reported  to  be 


144      the  children's  tabernacle. 


free  of  his  leprosy,  a  priest  went  out  of  the 
camp  and  subjected  him  to  a  very  strict 
examination.  If  no  signs  of  the  disorder 
appeared  upon  him,  the  priest  sent  a 
person  to  bring  two  living  birds  (doves  or 
young  pigeons),  cedar  wood,  scarlet  wool, 
and  hyssop,  with  which  he  performed 
the  ceremonies  of  purification,  to  admit 
the  party  to  the  privileges  of  the  Hebrew 
Church  and  communion.' " 

"What  does  that  mean,  mother?"  asked 
Lucius. 

"  That  the  man  was  no  longer  to  be  cut 
off,  as  were  lepers  in  Israel,  from  worship- 
ping the  Lord  within  the  camp,  or  mixing 
with  the  rest  of  the  people,"  replied  Mrs. 
Temple. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  might  not'  a  poor  leper 
do  that !"  exclaimed  Amy.     "  To  be  shut 


LEPROSY.  145 


out  from  praying  with  one's  friends  and 
relations  would  be  almost  the  worst  tiial 
of  all  1" 

"Remember,  my  child,  that  the  dread- 
ful disease  was  infectious ;  there  was  need 
of  the  greatest  care  lest  it  should  spread 
in  their  camp.  Lepers  had  to  wear  a 
particular  dress,  and  to  live  apart  from  all 
who  were  yet  in  health.  If  any  one  drew 
near  to  a  leper  unawares,  the  afflicted  one 
had  to  cry  out  *  Unclean !  unclean !'  " 

"I  don't  think  that  I  will  ever  again 
complain  of  being  shut  up  from  friends 
and  playmates  because  of  this  whooping- 
cough,"  cried  Lucius.  "It  is  disagree- 
able enough  to  be  kept  as  we  are  even  from 
going  to  church,  but  fancy  what  it  would 
be  to  have  to  cry  out  '  Unclean !  unclean  ! 

if  any  one  chanced  to  come  near  us  I" 

10 


146      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"Please,  mamma,  go  on  with  the  ac- 
count of  what  the  priest  had  to  do  with 
the  two  birds  which  lie  sent  for  when  he 
found  that  the  leper  was  quite  well  again," 
said  Amy. 

Mrs.  Temple  continued  her  reading : 

" '  He  slew  one  of  the  birds,  and  re- 
ceived its  blood  in  an  earthen  vessel.  In- 
to this  he  dipped  the  cedar  wood,  the 
scarlet  wool,  and  the  Irjwsop,  and  there- 
with sprinkled  seven  times  the  once  leprous 
person.^  The  other  bird  was  then  per- 
mitted to  escape,  as  a  symbol  that  the 
man  was  now  free  of  his  leprosy.' ' 

"Oh,  how  joyful  the  bird  must  have 
been  when  allowed  to  fly  free  up — up  high 
into  the  air !"  exclaimed  Elsie. 

"Not  more  glad  than  the  poor  cleansed 
leper,  of  whom  that  bird   was  a  type," 


LEPEOST.  147 


observed  Mrs.  Temple.  "Think  of  his 
jo j  at  being  free  to  return  to  his  family — 
his  wife  and  his  children  ;  and  his  thankful 
delight  when  worshipping  once  more  with 
his  former  companions  in  the  court  of  the 
Tabernacle  of  his  God !" 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  verse  in 
one  of  the  Psalms  which  shows  that 
David  had  the  cleansing  of  a  leper  in  his 
mind  wrhen  he  prayed  to  the  Lord  to 
forgive  him  his  sin,"  remarked  Lucius. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  of  the  same  when 
mamma  read  about  the  hyssop,"  said 
Amy.  "  It  made  me  feel  sure  that  Agnes 
was  right  when  she  chose  leprosy  as  a 
type  of  sin." 

"What  is  the  verse  to  which  you 
allude  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

Lucius   was  the  one  to  reply,  but  the 


148      the  children's  tabernacle. 


lips  of  Amy  silently  moved,  as  she  repeated 
the  same  verse  to  herself  from  the  fifty- 
first  Psalm — "  *  Purge  me  ivith  hyssop,  and 
I  shall  he  dean ;  tuash  me,  and  I  shall  be 
ivhiter  than  snow  /" 

"  Oh,  mamma!  I  remember  the  story  of 
the  poor  leper  who  came  to  the  Lord 
Jesus,"  said  Elsie,  "and  how  he  cried, 
'  Lord  if  thou  ivilt,  thou  canst  make  me 
clean  /" 

"  How  much  more  deeply  interesting  is 
the  Saviour's  reply,  'i"  will,  be  thou  clean,' 
if  we  look  upon  leprosy  as  a  type  of  sin," 
observed  Mrs.  Temple.  "The  Lord  was 
able  and  willing  to  heal,  not  the  poor 
man's  body  alone,  but  also  his  soul ;  and 
make  him  free  from  all  stain  of  sin  as  well 
as  from  all  taint  of  disease." 


XII. 


Dteanrarc. 

JHE  leper  story  which  has  always 
interested  me  most  is  that  of  Naa- 
man  the  Syrian,"  said  Lucius, 
when  he  had  put  back  Dr.  Kitto's 
large  volume  in  its  place  in  the  bookcase. 
"  O  yes,  yes,"  interrupted  little  Elsie ; 
"I  know  that  story  too,  quite  well.  I 
know  that  Naaman  was  a  great  man,  and 
rich,  and  a  famous  general  besides,  but  he 
had  the  dreadful  sickness  which  no  doc- 
tor could  cure.     I  remember  how  Naaman 

came  in  a  grand  chariot  with  prancing 

(140) 


150         THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


horses  to  the  house  of  the  good  prophet 
Elisha,  and  how  angry  he  was  when  only 
a  servant  came  out  and  told  him  to  wash 
seven  times  in  the  river  Jordan." 

Elsie  stopped  almost  out  of  breath  from 
the  rapidity  with  which  she  had  spoken. 
All  the  young  Temples  were  familiar  with 
the  account  of  the  cure  of  the  Syrian, 
which  was  one  of  their  favorite  Scripture 
stories. 

"Was  the  leprosy  of  Naaman  also  a 
type  of  sin  ?"  inquired  Lucius. 

"  I  believe  that  it  was,"  answered  Mrs. 
Temple,  "  and  I  am  strengthened  in  this 
belief  by  Naaman' s  leprosy  coming  upon 
Gehazi,  as  a  direct  punishment  for  his 


sin." 


"  Ah !  that  wicked  Gehazi !"  exclaimed 
Elsie ;  "  he  told  a  lie,  a  dreadful  lie !    It 


NAAMAN.  151 


was  right  that  he  should  be  punished,  was 
it  not?"  The  question  was  asked  of 
Dora,  Elsie's  favorite  sister,  The  child 
wondered  at  the  unwonted  silence  which 
had  come  over  Dora,  and  wanted  to  draw 
her  into  conversing  like  the  rest  of  the 
party. 

Dora  winced  at  the  question,  and  only 
replied  by  a  slight  movement  of  her  head. 
But  little  Elsie  wras  not  satisfied  by  this. 
"  Why  don't  you  speak  ?"  she  said  bluntly. 
"  When  people  are  so  very  naughty  as  to 
tell  lies,  and  say  that  they  are  doing  noth- 
ing when  they  are  doing  something  bad, 
don't  you  think  that  they  ought  to  be  well 
punished  for  it  ?" 

Forced  to  reply,  for  Elsie's  question  had 
drawn  every  one's  attention  towards  her, 
Dora  answered,  "  Of  course  they  should  be 


152        THE   CHILDREN'S  TABE11NACLE. 


punished ; "  and  having  thus  pronounced 
sentence  upon  herself,  she  relapsed  into 
silence,  feeling  much  inclined,  however,  to 
start  up  and  escape  from  the  room. 

"Are  you  not  well,  my  love?"  asked 
her  mother,  who  could  not  help  noticing 
that  Dora's  manner  was  different  from 
usual. 

"  Quite  well,  mamma ;  only  a  little 
tired,"  was  the  evasive  reply. 

"Tired  of  doing  nothing,"  said  Lucius. 

The  conversation  on  the  subject  of  Naa- 
man  was  then  resumed  by  Agnes. 

"When  Naaman  was  cleansed  of  his 
leprosy,  mamma,  how  was  it  that  Elisha 
did  not  tell  him  to  go  and  show  himself  to 
the  priest,  and  that  we  hear  nothing  about 
a  sin-offering,  nor  of  a  bird  being  set 
free?"  asked  the  elder  twin. 


NAAMAN.  153 

"You  must  remember,"  replied  Mrs. 
Temple,  "  that  Naaman  was  not  an  Israel- 
ite but  a  Syrian,  a  Gentile,  and  that  he 
was  therefore  not  bound  to  observe  the 
ceremonial  law  of  the  Jews.  I  think  that 
Naaman  was  a  type  of  the  Gentile  church, 
to  which  belong  all  Christians  who  are 
not  descended  from  Abraham  and  Isaac." 

"To  which  we  then  belong,"  observed 
Lucius. 

"Notice,  my  children,"  continued  the 
lady,  "  how  we  see,  as  if  in  a  series  of  pic- 
tures, the  history  of  a  converted  soul  in 
the  story  of  Naaman's  cure.  First  there 
is  the  man  possessing  all  that  earth  can 
give  him,  but  afflicted  with  a  deadly  dis- 
ease." 

"Like  the  people  who  were  bitten  by 
the  fiery  serpents,"  interrupted  Lucius. 


154      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"Here  in  the  leprous  Naaman  we  be- 
hold a  type  or  picture  of  a  soul  with  un- 
forgiven  sin  staining  and  corrupting  it," 
said  his  mother.  "  Next  we  find  the  leper 
at  the  door  of  the  prophet.  Can  any  one 
of  you  tell  me  of  what  Naaman  now  is  a 
type?" 

"  A  seeking  soul,"  replied  Agnes,  after 
a  little  pause  for  reflection. 

"  Ah !  but  the  next  picture  is  of  the 
leper  turning  away  quite  angry  because  he 
was  told  just  to  wash  and  be  clean,"  cried 
Elsie. 

"Then  Naaman  is  a  type  of  a  proud 
soul,  not  content  with  God's  simple  but 
wonderful  plan  of  salvation,"  continued 
the  lady.  "  There  are  some  persons  now 
who  think  that  they  can  earn  heaven  by 
doing  some  great  thing,  who  believe  that 


NAAMAN.  155 


because  of  tlieir  own  goodness  they  can  be 
clean  in  the  sight  of  God.  Such  persons, 
like  Naaman,  are  offended  and  hurt  when 
they  are  told  that  all  their  good  works 
cannot  take  away  sin  ;  that  the  leper  can 
only  be  saved  by  living  faith  in  Him 
whose  blood  is  the  fountain  opened  for  all 
uncleanness." 

"But  Naaman  did  go  and  dip  down 
seven  times  in  Jordan  as  he  was  bidden," 
cried  Elsie ;  "  and  then  he  was  made 
quite  well,  his  flesh  all  soft  and  clean,  just 
like  a  little  child's." 

"  This  is  a  picture  or  type  of  a  believ- 
ing, forgiven  soul,"  said  Mrs.  Temple, 
"the  picture  of  one  who  has  become  a 
child  of  God,  and  who  is  resolved,  by  the 
help  of  His  Spirit,  to  lead  from  henceforth 
a  new  life." 


156      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  These  types  are  really  beginning  to  be 
quite  plain  to  me  now,  mother,"  said  Lu- 
cius, "  and  they  make  the  Old  Testament 
seem  to  me  to  be  very  much  more  beauti- 
ful than  it  ever  seemed  before.  I  remem- 
ber how  puzzled  I  have  been  by  some 
words  in  one  of  the  Epistles  about  the 
rock  which  Moses  smote  in  the  desert, 
and  from  which  the  waters  gushed  out. 
St.  Paul  wrote  '  that  Rock  was  Christ/ 
and  I  never  could  make  out  what  he 
meant,  for  how  could  the  rock  be  the 
Lord  ?  But  now  I  understand,  at  least  I 
think  that  I  do,  that  the  Apostle  meant 
1  that  smitten  rock  was  a  type  of  Christ,' 
and  so  everything  becomes  plain." 

"Some  of  our  Lord's  own  expressions 
require  to  be  explained  in  the  same  kind 
of  way,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple.     "  When 


NAAMAN.  157 


our  Saviour  declared  that  He  was  the 
Vine,  and  his  disciples  the  branches,  it 
was  as  if  He  had  said,  '  A  vine  is  a  type 
of  Me,  and  its  branches  a  type  of  My 
servants.  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit 
of  itself,  except  it  abide  in  the  vine,  no  more 
can  ye  (bear  the  fruits  of  holiness),  except 
ye  abide  in  Me* " 

"  And  when  the  Lord  said  of  the  bread 
at  the  last  supper,  TJiis  is  My  body,  His 
words  must  have  meant  that  the  bread 
was  a  type  of  His  body,"  said  Amy  with 
thoughtful  reverence.  She  was  a  lowly- 
hearted  girl,  and  she  felt,  as  we  all  should 
feel,  that  when  so  very  sacred  a  subject  as 
the  Lord's  sufferings  or  death  is  spoken 
of  by  us,  it  is  as  if,  through  the  opening 
in  the  Tabernacle  Veil,  we  were  entering 
into  the  Holy  of  holies. 


XIII. 

f%  Stoma. 

)AN  one  object  be  a  type  of  more 
than  one  thing,  mamma?"  asked 
Lucius,  "for  there  is  something 
which  we  have  just  spoken  of  as 
being  a  type  of  what  heals  our  souls — I 
mean  by  that,  true  living  faith  in  the 
Lord;  and  I  have  thought  of  something 
quite  different,  of  which  it  seems  also  a 
type." 

"  Are  you  speaking  of  the  river  Jordan  ?" 
asked  Agnes,  through  whose  mind  the 
same  thought  had  been  passing. 

(158)  "   . 


THE  TWINS.  159 


"  Yes,  the  river  in  which  Naaman  dipped 
seven  times  and  was  cleansed,"  replied 
Lucius.  "  When  the  Israelites,  after  their 
long  wanderings  in  the  desert,  came  to 
that  same  river  Jordan,  there  was  nothing 
but  its  waters  between  them  and  the 
Promised  Land,  which  mother  told  me  to- 
day is  a  type  of  heaven." 

"And  the  waters  were  divided  to  let 
the  people  pass  over  quite  easily  and 
safely,"  interrupted  little  Elsie,  who  never 
missed  an  opportunity  of  bringing  out  any 
knowledge  which  she  had  gleaned. 

"Hush,  Elsie!  you  distract  my 
thoughts,"  said  her  brother,  "and  make 
me  forget  with  your  prattle  what  I  was 
going  to  say.  Oh,  it  is  this!  When 
Christians  have  almost  got  over  their  long 
life-journey,  there  is  only  one  thing  at  last 


160    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


that    divides    them    from    heaven,   their 

Promised  Land ;  and  that  thing  is  death. 

Mother,  is  not  Jordan  a  type  of  death  ?" 

"  I  believe  that  ifc  is,"  said  his  mother 

and  Amy  silently  thought  of  those  beautiful 

verses  which  allude  to  this  type  : — 

**01i !  could  we  bid  our  doubts  removo, 
Those  gloomy  doubts  that  rise, 
And  view  the  Canaan  that  we  love 
With  Faith's  unclouded  eyes  ; 

"  Could  we  but  stand  where  Moses  stood, 
And  view  the  landscape  o'er, 
Nor  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  flood. 
Could  fright  us  from  the  shore." 

"I  also  believe,"  continued  the  lady, 
"that  the  dividing  of  the  waters,  which 
enabled  the  Israelites  to  pass  over  without 
so  much  as  wetting  their  feet,  is  a  type  of 
the  terrors  of  death  being  taken  away 
from  the  Christian.  Safe  through  the 
atoning  sacrifice  and  happy  in  the  love  of 


THE  TWINS.  161 


his  Lord,  the  believer  can  peacefully  pass 
on  to  his  promised  land — heaven — with  as 
little  cause  for  fear  as  the  Israelites  had  in 
crossing  the  dry  bed  of  the  Jordan." 

"Ah!  the  Israelites  were  a  happy 
people,"  said  Amy,  softly.  "Think  of 
their  having  God  always  to  guide  them  by 
the  pillar  of  fire  and  cloud,  and  holy  Moses 
always  to  pray  for  them ;  and  the  beautiful 
promised  land  Canaan  before  them,  and 
so  many  wonderful  miracles  worked  for 
their  good!  I  almost  wish,"  she  added, 
"  that  I  had  lived  in  those  days." 

"  Happier  are  Christians  in  these  days, 

my  child,"   said  her   mother,  "for  they 

know  more,  far  more,  of  the  Saviour's  love 

than  was  ever  made  known  to  the  people 

of  Israel.     We  have  God's  sure  Word  ta 

guide  us  in  our  wanderings  through  the 

11 


162      the  children's  tabernacle. 


desert  of  life,  and  we  have  beyond  that 
desert  a  far  brighter  land  than  Canaan, 
even  heaven,  promised  and  purchased  by 
Him  who  prepares  good  things  for  those 
who  love  Him ;  and  we  have  One  far 
greater  than  Moses — One  who  ever  liveth 
to  plead  for  us  at  the  right  hand  of  God 
while  we  fight  our  battles  against  sin. 
Moses  was  a  being  of  flesh  and  blood  as 
we  are ;  his  arms  grew  tired,  he  needed  to 
have  them  held  up  by  Aaron  and  Hur ; 
but  the  Lord  Jesus  in  praying  for  His 
people  never  grows  weary,  and  His  love 
never  grows  cold.  My  children,  when  life 
was  most  like  a  desert  to  me,  when  your 
father  had  crossed  the  Jordan  and  left  me 
behind,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  comfort 
and  support  I  found  in  the  knowledge  of 
that  prayer  and  the  thought  of  that  love !" 


THE   TWINS.  163 


Mrs.  Temple's  voice  faltered,  and  Amy 
felt  the  hand  which  she  was  clasping 
tremble.  The  lady  now  very  seldom  gave 
way  to  any  outward  burst  of  sorrow  in 
the  presence  of  her  children ;  her  manner 
was  usually  cheerful  and  bright ;  but  the 
elder  ones  could  well  remember  how  great 
had  been  her  grief  in  the  first  sad  days  of 
her  widowhood,  when  their  father's  useful 
life  had  been  closed  by  a  peaceful  death. 
The  young  Temples  all  respected  their 
mother's  sorrow,  and  when  she  paused 
from  emotion  the  room  was  so  still  that 
the  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the  tick  of 
the  clock  were  the  only  sounds  to  be 
heard.  But  Mrs.  Temple  was  not  willing 
to  throw  even  a  brief  shadow  over  the 
cheerfulness  of  her  little  family  circle,  and 
would  not  now  have   given  way  to  her 


164      the  children's  tabernacle. 


feelings  had  not  bodily  weariness  and 
pain  made  her  less  able  to  control  them. 
Mrs.  Temple  very  quickly  recovered  her 
usual  tone,  and  said  in  her  wonted  cheerful 
manner,  "  My  little  Elsie's  eyes  are  grow- 
ing sleepy,  she  can  hardly  manage  to 
keep  them  open !  My  birdie  had  better 
fly  up  to  her  snug  warm  nest,  and  prepare 
by  a  good    long   rest    for    a    busy   to- 


morrow." 


"Oh,  yes,  to-morrow  will  indeed  be  a 
busy  day!"  exclaimed  Lucius;  "I  mean 
to  be  up  with  the  lark.  I  hope,  mother," 
he  added,  "  that  you  won't  mind  the  noise 
of  my  hammer?" 

Mrs.  Temple  with  a  smile  assured  her 
boy  that  she  would  not  mind  anything; 
she  had  not  been  a  mother  so  long  without 
becoming  accustomed  to  noise,  and   she 


THE  TWINS.  165 


would  be  just  as  much  interested  in  the 
progress  of  the  work  of  her  children  as 
they  themselves  could  be. 

"You  will  like  me  to  get  on  with  my 
little  red  curtains  ?"  said  Elsie,  in  rather 
a  drowsy  tone. 

A  fond  kiss  was  the  mother's  reply; 
and  then  Mrs.  Temple  herself  took  her 
youngest  child  up  to  her  bed-room,  for 
the  lady  always  liked  to  hear  Elsie  repeat 
her  evening  prayer. 

About  an  hour  afterwards  all  the  other 
young  Temples  had  wished  their  mother 
good-night,  and  retired  to  the  several 
apartments  in  which  they  slept.  The 
twins  shared  the  same  room.  It  was  a 
very  pretty  one,  adorned  with  framed 
pictures  painted  by  their  Aunt  Theodora, 
and  lighted  by  candles  in  elegant  green 


166      the  children's  tabernacle. 


glass  candlesticks,  which  had  been  a 
birthday  present  to  them  from  their 
mother.  Both  the  girls  were,  on  the 
night  in  question,  more  silent  than  usual, 
but  from  different  causes. 

As  Agnes  sat  slowly  brushing  out  her 
long  plaits  of  brown  hair,  stopped  every 
now  and  then  by  her  cough,  her  thoughts 
dwelt  much  on  the  subject  of  the  Israelites 
and  their  journey  through  the  wilderness, 
which  she  was  now  taught  to  regard,  not 
only  as  a  historical  fact,  but  also  as  a  type 
of  the  life-journey  of  Christians. 

Agnes  was  not  by  natural  disposition 
so  merry  and  light-hearted  as  her  brother 
and  sisters,  and  this  difference  between 
her  and  the  rest  of  the  family  was  all  the 
more  marked  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
writing,  from  the  health  of  the  elder  twin 


THE  TWINS.  167 


being  a  good  deal  shaken  by  her  illness. 
Agnes  had  naturally  a  peevish,  passionate 
temper,  which  greatly  marred  her  own 
peace  of  mind,  and  which  prevented  her 
from  winning  much  love  from  her  young 
companions.  Agnes  had  many  faults,  and 
she  knew  that  she  had  them ;  they  were 
to  her  a  trouble  and  burden.  The  young 
girl  honestly  wished  to  get  rid  of  and 
conquer  these  faults,  but  she  wanted 
energy  and  spirit  to  make  a  really  good 
battle  against  her  besetting  sins.  Agnes 
was  too  much  disposed  to  conclude  that 
because  sue  was  ill-tempered  she  must 
always  continue  ill-tempered,  that  there 
tfas  no  use  in  striving  to  subdue  her  evil 
nature.  Mrs.  Temple's  elder  twin  was 
wont  to  feel  vexed  and  to  look  sullen 
because  Lucius  never  cared   to   sit   and 


168      the  children's  tabernacle. 


chat  with  her  as  he  would  with  Dora  ;  and 
because  Elsie  never  threw  her  arms  round 
her  neck  as  she  would  round  Amy's.  It 
grieved  Agnes  to  notice  that  no  one  ever 
called  her  "pet,"  or  seemed  to  take 
delight  in  having  her  near. 

"  I  know  that  it  is  partly  my  own  fault," 
Agnes  would  often  say  to  herself,  in 
bitterness  of  soul ;  "  but  I  don't  think  that 
if  I  were  to  leave  home  for  months,  there 
is  any  one  but  mamma  who  would  miss 
me  or  want  me  back." 

Such  thoughts  had  only  the  effect  of 
making  the  poor  girl's  temper  more  cross, 
and  her  manner  more  peevish ;  it  is  so 
hard  for  the  face  to  look  bright  and  sweet 
when  gloom  is  within  the  heart. 

But  better  thoughts  were  in  the  mind  of 
Agnes  on  that  Sunday  night,  as  she  sat 


THE  TWINS.  169 


silently  brushing  her  hair.  Sweet  and 
comforting  was  the  reflection  that  she  was 
not  left  to  fight  her  battle  alone,  that  there 
was  One  who  would  not  only  hear  her 
prayer,  but  who  would  Himself  pray  for 
His  feeble  child — who  would  both  watch 
her  struggle  against  sin,  and  give  her 
strength  in  that  struggle.  It  was  sweet  to 
poor  Agnes,  when  she  afterwards  knelt 
down  to  pray  by  the  side  of  her  bed,  to 
feel  that  if  she  was,  like  an  Israelite,  bitten 
by  the  serpent  of  sin,  she  knew  where  to 
look  for  a  cure ;  that  if  she  was  like  Naa- 
man  the  leper,  there  was  the  Fountain 
open  to  her,  in  which  she  could  wash  and 
be  clean.  Hope  had  sprung  up  in  the 
young  girl's  heart,  and  with  hope  came  in- 
crease of  courage.  Agnes  remembered 
that  the  Lord  who  had  supplied  all  the 


170      the  children's  tabeenacle. 


need  of  the  Israelites  could  supply  hers 
also ;  and  when  temptations  assailed  her, 
as  the  enemy  assailed  that  people,  make 
her  also  more  than  conqueror  through  the 
power  of  His  Holy  Spirit. 

Very,  very  different  were  the  thoughts 
passing  through  the  mind  of  Dora,  though 
outwardly  she  was  doing  exactly  the  same 
things  as  were  done  by  her  twin  sister. 
Dora  was  not  making  a  brave  battle  against 
inward  sin,  but  was,  like  a  coward  and 
traitor,  going  over  to  the  enemy's  side. 
It  is  true  that  she  still  intended  to  unpick 
on  the  Monday  morning  all  that  she  had 
Bewn  on  the  Sunday  afternoon ;  but  this 
resolve  was  made  on  the  false  principle  of 
punishing  herself  for  the  sin  she  would  not 
honestly  confess,  and  of  which  she  had 
never  truly  repented.     This  idea  of  self- 


THE   TWINS.  171 


inflicted  punishment  was  merely  Dora's 
contrivance  for  quieting  conscience,  that 
conscience  which  had  been  very  uneasy 
during  the  conversation  on  the  subject  of 
leprosy,  the  terrible  type  of  sin.  But 
Dora  was  trying,  and  with  tolerable  suc- 
cess, to  banish  from  her  mind  all  thought 
of  that  conversation.  It  was  far  more 
pleasant  to  think  of  the  pattern  of  the 
Tabernacle  curtains  than  of  the  holy 
things  of  which  that  Tabernacle  should 
remind  us. 

A  great  many  persons — even  grown-up 
persons — act,  alas !  like  Dora.  They  so 
fix  their  attention  on  outward  things  in 
religion  that  they  quite  overlook  the  in- 
ward meaning.  Such  self-deceivers  are 
ready  enough  to  work  at  what  pleases  the 
eye  and  amuses  the  fancy,  and  believe  that 


172      the  children's  tabernacle. 


they  are  making  an  offering  to  God ;  but 
the  cleansing  of  the  heart,  the  giving  up 
sin — these  are  duties  which  they  shrink 
from,  and  which  they  willingly  put  off  to 
"  a  more  convenient  season." 


XIV. 


LMOST  every  inmate  of  Cedar 
Lodge  was  up  very  early  on  Mon- 
day morning,  Agnes  being  the 
only  member  of  the  family  who 
did  not  rise  till  her  usual  hour.  The  first 
crow  of  the  cock,  strutting  about  in  the 
yard  behind  the  house,  roused  little  Elsie 
from  sleep.  The  child  was  restless  and 
impatient  in  her  white-curtained  cot,  until 
she  was  suffered  to  rise,  dress,  and  set 
about  her  Turkey-red  work  for  the  model. 

Amy  was  bending  over  her  strip  of  white 

(173) 


174      the  children's  tabernacle. 


linen  almost  before  there  was-  sufficient 
light  for  her  to  see  how  to  thread  her  fine 
needle,  for  the  morning  was  dark  and 
rainy;  indeed  the  sun  never  showed  his 
face  during  the  whole  of  that  cheerless 
day. 

Drip,  drip !  fell  the  rain,  but  none  of  the 
children  regretted  that  they  were  not 
likely  to  go  out  of  the  house.  "I  don't 
mind  the  rain  one  bit !"  cried  Elsie.  "  I'm 
glad  that  it  rains  ;  we'll  get  on  so  famously 
with  our  work !" 

Drip,  drip !  fell  the  rain ;  clink,  clink ! 
fell  the  hammer  of  Lucius ;  and  blithe 
sounded  his  whistle,  as  he  labored  in  the 
midst  of  his  squares  of  pasteboard,  strips 
of  wood,  and  lengths  of  wire.  The  school- 
boy set  to  his  work  with  a  will ;  and  how 
pleasant  is  work  when  we  have  strength 


WORK.  175 

and  spirit  to  do  it,  and  feel  that  we  have  a 
worthy  object  before  us ! 

No  one  was  up  earlier  than  Dora.  Sho 
sprang  from  her  bed  before  twilight  had 
given  place  to  day-light,  so  impatient  was 
she  to  get  to  her  embroidery  pattern 
again.  The  noise  of  Dora's  rising  awoke 
Agnes,  who  had  not  passed  so  good 
a  night  as  her  more  vigorous  twin  had 
done,  the  sickly  girl  having  been  several 
times  disturbed  by  her  cough. 

"What  are  you  about,  Dora?"  mur- 
mured Agnes,  in  a  drowsy  and  rather 
complaining  tone  ;  "  I'm  sure  that  it  can't 
be  nearly  time  to  get  up." 

"  Oh,  I  like  to  set  about  my  new  work 
quickly,  and  get  a  good  piece  of  it  done 
before  breakfast,"  was  Dora's  reply. 

"  There  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  work 


176      the  children's  tabernacle. 


between  this  and  Christmas ;  I  wish  that 
you  would  keep  quiet  and  let  me  rest," 
yawned  Agnes. 

"  You  can  rest  if  you  wish  it ;  I  wont 
make  a  noise,"  replied  Dora.  "But  for 
my  part  I  like  to  be  up  and  doing.  You 
know  that : 

'  Early  to  bed,  and  early  to  rise, 
Is  the  way  to  be  healthy,  -wealthy,  and  wise.'  " 

Agnes  said  nothing  in  contradiction  of 
the  old  proverb  which  her  sister  had 
quoted,  but  turned  round  on  her  pillow, 
and  with  a  weary  yawn  composed  herself 
again  to  sleep.  She  thought  that  it 
would  be  time  enough  to  get  up  when 
Susan  should  call  her  at  a  quarter  to 
seven,  and  she  only  wished  that  Dora  had 
thought  so  also,  for  it  fidgeted  Agnes  to 
hear  her  moving  about  in  the  room.     But 


WORK.  177 

Dora  had  cared  as  little  about  disturbing 
the  sleep  of  a  sickly  sister  as  she  had 
about  letting  her  mother  go  out  in  the 
rain.  Dora  admired  her  own  energy,  and 
looked  upon  Agnes  almost  with  scorn,  as 
being  lazy,  cold,  and  dull,  with  not  a  bit 
of  enthusiasm  in  her  nature. 

"  We  should  not  have  had  a  model 
worth  looking  at  had  the  embroidery  been 
left  to  her,"  said  Dora  to  herself,  not  with- 
out a  feeling  of  self-complacence,  as  she 
glanced  at  her  twin  who  had  again  sunk 
into  slumber. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Dora  had 

resolved  to  unpick  all  the  work  that  she 

had   sewn   upon   the   preceding    Sunday. 

As   soon   as   the   little    girl    had   hastily 

finished    her   toilet,   so   hastily   that   she 

forgot  to  button  her  sleeves  or  put  on  her 

12 


178      the  children's  tabernacle. 


collar,  she  opened  her  workbox,  took  out 
her  work,  and  seated  herself  as  close  to 
the  window  as  possible,  in  order  to  catch 
as  much  as  she  could  of  the  dim  light  of 
dawn.  It  might  have  been  expected  that 
Dora  would  also  have  forgotten  to  saj  hei 
prayers,  but  such  was  not  the  case.  She 
remembered  to  kneel  down  by  her  bedside 
and  hurry  through  a  mere  form  of  words, 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to 
their  meaning,  thinking  of  her  embroidery 
all  the  time.  It  was  a  satisfaction  to  the 
conscience  of  Dora  that  she  had  repeated 
a  prayer,  and  she  never  stopped  to  ask 
herself  whether  that  prayer  were  not  in 
itself  a  sin. 

Dora  with  needle  and  scissors  set  first 
to  her  work  of  unpicking.  But  every  one 
who  has  tried  such  an  occupation  must 


WORK.  179 

know  it  to  be  one  of  the  most  tedious  and 
disagreeable  of  tasks.  It  was  doubly  so 
to  Dora,  because  she  greatly  admired  the 
embroidery  work  which  she  was  thus  be- 
ginning to  spoil. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity  to  undo  this,"  Dora 
said  to  herself  before  she  had  been  for 
two  minutes  plying  the  scissors.  "  I  wont 
go  on  with  this  foolish  unpicking.  After 
all,  my  undoing  every  stitch  of  my  pretty 
work  would  not  undo  the  fault  of  my 
having  put  it  in  on  Sunday." 

This  was  indeed  true.  A  fault  once 
committed,  no  human  being  has  power  to 
undo ;  but  while  looking  to  the  Lord  alone 
for  forgiveness,  we  are  bound  to  prove  the 
sincerity  of  our  regret  for  a  fault  by  mak- 
ing what  amends  lie  in  our  power.  Dora 
took  the  easier,  but  far  more  dangerous 


180   THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


way,  of  trying  to  forget  the  fault  alto- 
gether, or  to  make  up  for  it  by  what  she 
considered  to  be  Jier  zeal  in  charity  work. 
She  certainly  sewed  very  diligently  on 
that  dull  morning,  scarcely  lifting  her  eyes 
from  the  pattern  which  she  had  neatly 
traced  on  the  linen.  She  was  filling  up 
the  pencilled  outlines  with  chain-stitch, 
satin-stitch,  and  other  stitches,  in  bright- 
colored  silks  and  a  brilliant  thread  of 
gold. 

"Oh,  look! — just  look  how  famously 
Dora  has  been  getting  on  with  her  work !" 
exclaimed  the  admiring  Elsie,  when,  sum- 
moned by  the  bell  at  half-past  eight,  the 
children  had  assembled  in  the  breakfast- 
room,  awaiting  their  mother's  coming 
down  to  prayers. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  yoii 


WORK.  181 

have  worked  all  that  this  morniog  ?"  said 

Lucius  to  Dora. 

The  question  was  rather  an  awkward 

one  for  Dora  to  answer — it  took  the  girl 
by  surprise.  Dora  replied  to  it  by  an 
evasion,  which  was  another  act  of  deceit. 
"I  couldn't  begin  my  embroidery  on 
Saturday  night,"  she  said,  actually  con- 
gratulating herself  that  she  had  this  time 
spoken  the  exact  truth,  as  if  it  were  not  the 
very  essence  of  falsehood  to  deceive,  even 
though  the  lips  may  utter  no  lie.  As 
Dora  had  not  sewn  on  Saturday,  she 
knew  that  Lucius  would  take  it  for 
granted  that  she  had  been  so  clever  and 
industrious  as  to  do  all  the  work  which 
he  saw  on  the  Monday  morning,  for  he 
would  certainly  never  suspect  her  of  hav- 
ing put  in  one  stitch  upon  Sunday. 


182      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  Don't  you  admire  Dora's  curtain,  is  it 
not  lovely  ?"  said  Amy  to  Agnes,  who  was 
examining  the  work  of  her  twin. 

"  Rather,"  was  the  reply,  uttered  in  a 
hesitating  tone. 

Agnes  could  not  truthfully  have  ex- 
pressed warmer  admiration,  for  she  did 
not  think  that  the  figures  of  the  cherubim 
were  at  all  gracefully  drawn,  nor  did  she 
consider  that  the  colors  were  perfectly 
Dlended,  there  being  too  little  scarlet  in 
proportion  to  the  purple  and  blue.  But 
the  cold  praise  of  the  twin  was  not 
unnaturally  set  down  by  her  family  as 
coming  from  a  mean,  unworthy  motive. 

"  She  is  as  jealous  as  a  cat !"  exclaimed 
Lucius ;  "  Agnes  can't  forgive  poor  Dora 
xor  having  been  trusted  with  the  most 
difficult  part  of  the  work." 


WOEK.  183 

The  irritable  temper  of  Agnes  fired  up 
in  a  moment  at  an  observation  which  she 
felt  to  be  unjust  as  well  as  unkind.  But 
Agnes  on  that  Monday  morning  had  not 
merely  said  her  prayers,  she  had  really 
prayed  for  grace  to  conquer  besetting  sin 
and  now,  though  she  could  not  help  her 
cheeks  flushing  scarlet  at  the  taunt  of  her 
brother,  she  pressed  her  lips  closely  to- 
gether, and  kept  down  the  passionate 
reply  which  it  was  so  hard,  so  very  hard, 
not  to  utter. 

"  How  much  of  your  work  have  you 
done  this  morning,  Agnes  ?"  asked  Elsie, 
rather  proudly,  showing  her  own  three 
inches  of  seam  in  the  Turkey-red  cloth. 

"  I  have  cut  out  my  mohair  curtains," 
said  Agnes,  who  had  also,  though  she  did 
not  choose  to  say  so,  been  mending  her 


184      the  children's  tabernacle. 


gloves,  in  obedience  to  the  known  wish  of 
her  mother. 

"Cut  out  —  only  cut  out?"  laughed 
Lucius,  who  had  been  doing  great  things 
in  the  nailing  and  hammering  line ;  "  if 
you  take  the  matter  so  easily,  Agnes, 
every  one  will  cut  you  out,  though  you  may 
not  be  made  into  curtains !" 

Agnes  was  provoked  at  the  joke,  and  all 
the  more  so  because  Dora  and  Elsie 
laughed,  and  Amy  could  not  help  smiling. 
Few  persons  like  to  be  laughed  at,  and 
the  peevish-tempered  Agnes  was  certainly 
not  one  of  the  few.  But  the  girl  had 
made  a  resolve,  not  in  vain  trust  in  her 
own  power  of  carrying  it  out,  but  in  a 
spirit  of  humble  prayer,  to  set  a  watch 
before  her  lips ;  and  if  she  could  not 
speak  kindly,  not  to  utter  a  single  word. 


WORK.  185 

Agnes  could  not,  indeed,  yet  manage  to 
take  a  disagreeable  joke  with  smiling 
good  humor,  but  she  bore  it  in  resolute 
silence,  she  did  not  utter  any  retort. 

No  one  admired  Agnes  Temple,  no 
one  praised  her  self-command :  she  was 
thought  lazy  because  she  had  not  eagerly 
rushed  into  an  occupation  in  which  she 
took  no  particular  pleasure,  and  for  which 
she  knew  that  she  would  find  plenty  of 
time  without  neglecting  more  homely 
duties;  she  was  thought  jealous  because 
she  had  simply  spoken  the  truth ;  and  yet 
on  that  day  Agnes  had  begun  a  nobler 
work  than  that  of  embroidering  in  purple 
and  gold,  and  her  offering  was  a  far  more 
acceptable  one  than  that  of  which  Dora 
was  proud. 


XT. 

jliifcrtnt  JMifrw. 

JHAT  a  busy,  cheerful  little  party !" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Temple,  as  she 
entered  the  study  on  the  afternoon 
of  that  same  day,  and  found  all 
her  children  sitting  together,  sewing,  cut- 
ting, gilding,  and  chatting  merrily  as  they 
worked.  "You  remind  me  of  the  busy, 
happy  scene  outside  Jerusalem,  beheld 
every  year  when  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles 
was  kept." 

"What  was  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles, 

mamma?"  inquired  Amy.     Lucius  would 
(186) 


DIFFERENT    MOTIVES.  187 


have  asked  the  same  question,  but  lie 
dared  not  speak  at  that  moment  lest  his 
breath  should  blow  away  the  sheet  of 
gold-leaf  with  which  he  was  trying  to  cover 
his  wires. 

,  "  The  Feast  of  Tabernacles  was  a  yearly 
festival  held  by  the  Israelites  in  remem- 
brance of  the  time  spent  by  their  fathers 
in  tabernacles  or  tents  in  the  desert," 
replied  the  lady.  "This  was  the  most 
cheerful  of  all  the  feasts,  and  was  kept 
in  a  remarkable  manner.  The  people 
made  booths  for  themselves  of  the  branches 
of  palm,  willow,  and  other  trees,  and  for 
seven  days  lived  in  these  booths.  There 
were  processions,  glad  hosannas,  and 
sounds  of  singing  and  mirth.  The  people 
enjoyed  their  out-of-door  life,  and  blessed 
the  Lord   for    His   goodness   in   guiding 


188      the  children's  tabernacle. 


the  Israelites  through  the  wilderness  to 
the  good  land  in  which  their  children  now 
dwelt." 

"  One  could  hardly  keep  such  a  feast  in 
England,"  observed  Agnes,  glancing  out 
of  the  window  at  the  gray  sky  and  the 
dripping  trees,  which  were  dimly  reflected 
in  the  pools  left  by  the  morning's  rain. 

"I  think  that  living  in  green  leafy 
booths  would  be  delightful  in  summer, 
even  in  England !"  exclaimed  Lucius,  who 
had  managed  to  fix  his  gold-leaf.  "I 
should  have  liked,  had  I  been  a  Jew,  to 
have  kept  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles — bet- 
ter perhaps  than  to  have  helped  to  make 
this  model  Tabernacle,"  added  the  boy, 
who,  after  several  hours  of  steady  work, 
was  beginning  to  feel  rather  tired.  "I 
should  much  prefer  hewing  down  branches, 


DIFFERENT  MOTIVES.  189 


and  doing  the  rough  carpentering  part  of 
the  business,  to  gilding  these  tiresome, 
fidgety  wires,  which  I  am  sure  to  ungild 
again  as  soon  as  I  attempt  to  fix  them  into 
their  frame." 

"What,  you  are  weary  of  your  work 
already !"  exclaimed  Dora,  as  she  paused 
in  her  sewing  to  thread  her  needle. 

"  Not  exactly  weary  of  it  now,"  answered 
Lucius,  "  but  I  guess  that  I  shall  be  so 
long  before  this  model  is  finished.  It  is 
all  very  well,"  he  continued,  taking  up  his 
knife  to  hack  away  at  some  stubborn  paste- 
board— "  it  is  all  very  well  to  make  pillars 
and  curtains  while  the  sky  is  cloudy,  and 
the  rain  falls  fast,  and  I  am  kept  prisoner 
at  home ;  but  suppose  that  the  rain  should 
stop,  and  the  sun  shine  out,  and  the  wea- 
ther become  settled  at  last,  wouldn't  every 


190        THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


one  of  us  like  running  about  in  the  fields 
all  day,  playing  at  cricket,  or  croquet,  or 
rounders,  better  than  measuring  and  cut  - 

ting  and there !  snap  goes  my  knife,  my 

new  knife  I"  and  with  a  gesture  of  impa- 
tience the  boy  flung  the  unmanageable 
pasteboard  down  on  the  table. 

There  was  much  to  justify  the  suspicion 
expressed  by  Lucius  that  the  work  so 
eagerly  begun  by  the  Temples  would,  be- 
fore it  could  be  finished,  become  a  burden 
and  a  tax  upon  the  patience  of  all.  On 
the  very  next  day  began  a  season  of 
warmth  and  sunshine,  which  did  more  to 
drive  away  coughs  and  restore  vigor  to 
late  invalids  than  could  all  the  skill  of  the 
doctor.  Even  Agnes  was  able  to  spend 
hours  in  the  open  air ;  and,  except  at  meal- 
times, Lucius  liked  to  be  out  all  the  day. 


DOTEHENT   MOTIVES.  191 


His  fidgety  work,  as  he  called  it,  could 
scarcely  be  done  but  indoors,  and  the  boy 
found  it  a  grievous  task. 

"  But  it  would  be  a  shame  not  to  go  on 
with  the  model  now,  after  putting  mamma 
to  so  much  trouble  and  expense,"  observed 
Luciu3  one  morning  to  Dora.  "  Besides, 
I  engaged  to  do  it,  and  no  English  boy 
must  flinch  back  from  keeping  his  word. 
The  new  knife  which  I  bought  yesterday 
is  not  to  be  compared  to  that  which  I  so 
unluckily  snapped  over  the  pasteboard  ; 
but  I  must  hack  away  steadily,  and  show 
a  good  example  to  that  lazy  puss  Elsie, 
who  since  the  fine  weather  began  has  not 
put  another  stitch  into  her  Turkey-red 
curtains." 

"  She  has  stowed  them  away  in  her 
doll's  cradle,"  observed  Dora,  laughing. 


192      the  children's  tabebnacle. 


Mrs.  Temple  was  not  surprised  to  find 
that  the  making   of  the  model  now  pro- 
gressed   more    slowly ;    she    was    rather 
pleased  to  see  the  amount  of  perseverance 
shown  by  her  children  after  the  charm  of 
novelty   had  worn   off.     Even   the  "  lazy 
puss"  drew   her   work   from   its   hiding- 
place,  and  would  sew — for  five  minutes  at 
a  time — "just    to   please    dear  mamma." 
All  the  five  Temples   continued  to  work, 
when  work  had  ceased  to  be  an  amuse- 
ment; but    they   worked    from    different 
motives.     Those  which  influenced  Lucius 
— a    manly,   honorable    boy — have    been 
mentioned  already,  as  well  as  the  simple 
wish  to  please  mother  which  made  Elsie 
prick   her  plump  little   finger  under  her 
Turkey-red  cloth.     But  if  you  could  glance 
into  the  hearts  of  the   three   other  girls 


DIFFERENT  MOTIVES.  193 


as  they  sit  together  industriously  plying 
their  needles,  we  should  find  an  example 
of  how  the  very  same  effect  may  be  pro- 
duced by  different  causes. 

Amy  had  from  the  very  first  considered 
her  humble  work  as  something  to  be  done 
for  her  Heavenly  Master,  and  this  sweet 
thought  made  her  take  pleasure  in  labor, 
which  without  it  would  have  been  weari- 
some indeed.  It  was  this  thought  which 
made  Amy  put  fine  hemming  and  stitching 
into  the  long  strips  of  white  lawn  which 
represented  the  linen  curtains  surrounding 
the  court  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  even 
unpick  any  portion  which  did  not  seem  to 
her  to  be  sewn  neatly  enough.  Amy  tried 
to  give  her  best,  her  very  best  work, 
because  she  was  giving  it  to  the  Lord,  and 

some  of  the  happiest  hours  which  the  little 

13 


194      the  children's  tabernacle. 


girl  ever  had  known  were  spent  over  her 
tedious  curtains. 

"  I  cannot  think,  Amy,  how  you  can  go 
on  so  patiently  with  what  is  so  tiresome, 
with  no  variety  in  it,  and  a  kind  of  wrork 
which  will  not  look  striking  when  all  is 
done,"  exclaimed  Dora  one  day,  as  she 
unrolled  some  glittering  gold  thread  from 
her  reel. 

Amy  smiled  as  she  glanced  up  at  her 
sister's  far  more  amusing  occupation.  "  If 
I  could  have  worked  anything  so  pretty  as 
the  veil  which  you  are  making,  I  daresay 
that  I  should  have  liked  it  much  better," 
she  observed.  "  But  I  am  pleased  to  do 
the  plain  work  as  well  as  I  can,  as  the 
embroidery  would  have  been  far  too  dim- 
cult  for  me." 

Amy's  curtains  might  seem  plain  to  the 


DIFFERENT  MOTIVES.  19; 


eyes  of  most  people,  but  her  mother 
looked  upon  them  with  special  pleasure ; 
for,  as  she  said  to  herself,  "  they  are  em- 
broided  all  over  with  faith  and  love." 

Agnes  also  made  steady  progress  with 
her  not  very  inviting  work,  though  she 
took  in  it  no  great  pleasure.  Agnes 
regarded  the  sewing  as  a  matter  of  duty, 
and  therefore  plied  her  needle  in  the  same 
spirit  as  that  in  which  she  struggled  to 
subdue  her  temper,  a'nd  tried  to  put  a 
bridle  on  her  tongue.  It  was  the  work 
which  had  been  given  to  her,  and  she 
would  do  it,  without  asking  herself  whether 
she  liked  it  or  not. 

"This  material,  neither  smooth  nor 
pretty,  is  something  like  a  type  of  me," 
thought  Agnes,  as  she  put  the  finishing 
stitch  into  one  of  her  mohair  curtains ; 


196      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"but  the  goats' -hair  had  just  as  much  its 
appointed  place  in  the  Tabernacle  as  loops 
of  silver  and  sockets  of  gold.  I  shall 
never  be  as  much  liked  and  admired  as 
Dora  is — I  may  as  well  make  up  my  mind 
to  that ;  but  if  God  help  me  by  His  grace, 
I  too  may  lead  a  useful  life,  and  be  dear — 
at  least  to  my  mother." 

And  more  and  more  dear  was  Agnes  be- 
coming to  her  mother,  who  watched  with 
the  keen  eye  of  affection  the  struggle  made 
by  her  eldest  daughter  against  her  beset- 
ting sins.  Mrs.  Temple  guessed  what  it 
cost  Agnes  to  bear  a  rough  joke  in  silence, 
to  lend  pretty  things  which  she  feared  that 
the  borrower  might  spoil,  to  give  up  her 
own  way,  and  to  show  no  jealous  anger 
when  another  was  preferred  before  her. 

"  My     girl's     character     is    becoming 


DIFFERENT   MOTIVES.  197 


stronger  and  nobler  every  day,"  thought 
Mrs.  Temple ;  "  I  thank  the  Lord  for  my 
Agnes,  for  I  am  sure  that  it  is  His  grace 
that  is  working  in  her  heart.  Agnes  pro- 
mises to  grow  up  into  a  really  valuable 
woman,  one  whom  her  mother  can  trust." 
Mrs.  Temple  could  not  have  said  as 
much  for  her  dearly  loved  Dora.  The 
lady  was  perplexed  and  pained  to  feel 
that  something — she  knew  not  what  it 
could  be — seemed  to  have  come  between 
her  and  her  bright,  clever,  affectionate 
child.  Dora,  indeed,  gave  Mrs.  Temple 
no  cause  to  find  fault  with  her  conduct; 
her  lessons  were  well  learned,  her  temper 
was  good,  she  was  a  favorite  still  with  her 
brother  and  sisters;  and  yet  her  mother 
felt  that  there  was  a  change  in  her  Dora 
for  which  she  could  not   account.    Mrs. 


198      the  children's  tabernacle. 


Temple  was  wont  to  have  little  quiet  con- 
versations separately  with  each  of  her 
children  at  night :  in  these  meetings  they 
were  able  to  open  their  hearts  more  freely 
to  their  mother  than  they  could  have  done 
had  a  third  person  been  present,  and  their 
parent  could  speak  upon  religious  subjects 
in  the  way  best  suited  to  the  character 
and  age  of  each.  These  quiet  moments 
spent  alone  with  mamma  had  been  greatly 
prized  by  all  the  children;  but  Dora  could 
take  pleasure  in  them  no  more,  and  her 
parent  was  conscious  that  such  was  the 
case.  The  girl  generally  managed,  only 
too  easily,  to  forget  all  about  her  unrepent- 
ed  sin  when  the  remembrance  of  it  was 
not  forced  upon  her  now  half-deadened 
conscience ,  out  when  her  mother  sat  by 
her  bedside  and  softly  talked  to  her  about 


DIFFERENT    MOTIVES.  199 


neaven,  Dora  grow  uneasy  in  spirit.  She 
did  not  like  to  be  reminded  of  the  holy 
God  whose  law  she  had  broken — what 
pleasure  could  the  knowledge  of  His  truth 
bring  to  one  who  was  conscious  of  unre- 
pented  falsehood !  The  returns  of  Sundays, 
nay,  even  the  hour  for  family  prayer,  were 
never  welcome  to  Dora.  When  she  re- 
peated texts  or  hymns,  as  the  rest  of  the 
family  did,  she  had  the  wretched  con- 
sciousness that  she  was  acting  a  hypo- 
crite's part,  and  taking  God's  name  in 
vain.  Dora's  life  was  becoming  one  long 
act  of  deceit.  She  was  secretly  ashamed 
of  herself  for  appearing  so  much  better 
than  she  in  icality  was. 

"  But  my  work — my  beautiful  work — my 
work  for  the  poor — I'll  make  up  for  what 
I've  done  wrong  by  taking  extra  pains 


200 


THE   CHILDREN  S  TABERNACLE. 


with  that!"  thought  Dora.  And  so  the 
poor  girl  usually  succeeded  in  winning 
much  praise  from  others,  and  in  deceiving 
her  own  sinful  heart,  only  too  willing  to 
be  thus  deceived. 


XVI. 


^fe^HEKE    is    one    thing    which    we 

SjjiP    can't  do,  it  is  too  hard  for  even 

(27\£     Dora,"  observed  Elsie  one  morn- 

©T       ing   at   breakfast,  when,  as   was 

often  the  case,  the  Children's  Tabernacle 

had  formed  a  topic  of  conversation.    "  We 

can't  make   models  of  the   Ark,   or  the 

Altar,  or  the   Table  of  Showbread ;  our 

pretty  curtains  wont  cover  anything,  the 

Tabernacle  will  be  quite  empty!" 

"  I  really   could   not  undertake   to   do 

more  than  I  am  doing,  even  if  my  ringers 

201 


202      the  children's  tabernacle. 


could  manage  to  make  such  tiny  models," 
said  Lucius,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  already 
found  that  he  had  engaged  in  a  difficult 
task. 

Agnes,  Dora,  and  Amy  were  silent ;  they 
all  felt  that  there  would  certainly  be  a 
great  want  in  their  Tabernacle,  but  they 
did  not  see  how  that  want  could  possibly 
be  supplied. 

The  young  Temples  little  guessed  that 
while  their  mother  was  in  her  own 
room,  engaged,  as  they  supposed,  in  read- 
ing or  writing,  or  making  up  her  household 
accounts,  she  was  preparing  for  them  a 
pleasant  surprise.  Mrs.  Temple  was  not 
less  with  her  family  than  usual,  she  did 
not  neglect  her  house  affairs,  she  never 
forgot  either  to  order  the  dinner  or  to  pay 
the  butcher  and  baker,  but  she  stole  time 


THE  HIGH  PKIEST.  203 


for  lier  novel  employment  from  her  sleep, 
and  from  her  favorite  amusement  of  read- 
ing library  books. 

On  the  day  when  the  model  was  com- 
pleted, when  the  last  silver  socket  had 
been  fastened,  and  the  last  little  curtain 
hemmed,  the  children  had  the  pleasure  of 
setting  up  the  Tabernacle  in  the  study, 
to  see  how  it  looked.  There  was  great 
satisfaction  in  surveying  the  finished 
work ;  every  one  felt  glad  that  the  long 
labor  was  over,  and  that  he  had  had  a 
share  in  the  work. 

"  How  pleased  auntie  will  be !"  cried 
Elsie. 

"  And  the  ragged  children,  too,"  joined 
in  Amy. 

"And  now  go  out  for  your  walk,  my 
dear    ones,"   said    their    mother;     "the 


204      the  children's  tabernacle. 


morning  is  so  frosty  and  bright  that  you 
may  make  your  walk  a  long  one  ;  I  should 
not  be  surprised  should  you  wander  as 
far  as  Burnley  woods.  I  shall  not  expect 
you  back  for  a  couple  of  hours." 

"Mother,  you  will  go  with  us,"  said 
Lucius. 

"I  will  be  particularly  engaged  this 
morning,"  replied  Mrs.  Temple,  as  she 
shook  her  head  with  a  smile.  Elsie  re- 
marked afterwards  that  it  had  been  "a 
knowing  kind  of  smile,"  as  if  there  had 
been  some  very  particular  reason  indeed 
for  her  mamma's  stopping  at  home.  The 
reason  was  clear  enough  to  all  the  party 
when  they  returned  from  their  walk,  and 
with  their  cheeks  rosy  from  the  fresh  air 
and  exercise  re-entered  the  study.  The 
children  found  their  mother  standing  be- 


THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  205 


side  the  model.  Elsie,  who  was  the  firs* 
to  run  up  to  it,  gave  almost  a  scream  of 
delight. 

"  Oh !  see — see  what  mamma  has  been 
making !  Clever  mamma !"  she  cried, 
clapping  her  hands,  and  jumping  for  joy. 

"  What  lovely  little  models  P  exclaimed 
Lucius.  "  Mother,  it  is  you  who  have 
cut  us  all  out." 

"  You  have  done  what  none  of  us  could 
have  done,"  said  Agnes. 

"And  so  quietly  too,"  observed  Dora. 

"  There  is  nothing  wanting  now  !"  cried 
Amy,  putting  her  arm  fondly  around  the 
parent  who  had  so  kindly  entered  into  the 
little  pleasures  of  her  children. 

"I  thought  that  one  thing  more  was 
wanting,"  said  Mrs.  Temple.  The  lady 
seated  herself  beside  the  table,  and  took 


206      the  children's  tabernacle. 


off  the  cover  of  a  little  pasteboard  box 
which  she  held  in  her  hand.  The  child- 
ren looked  on  with  mingled  curiosity  and 
pleasure  as  their  mother  carefully  drew 
out  from  it  a  beautiful  little  figure  about 
two  inches  long,  exquisitely  dressed  in 
miniature  garments,  representing  those 
which  were  worn  by  the  high-priest  of 
Israel.  To  imitate  these  garments  in  a 
size  so  small,  had  taxed  the  utmost  skill 
of  the  ingenious  and  neat-fingered  lady. 

I  need  not  set  down  all  the  exclama- 
tions of  wonder  and  pleasure  which  were 
uttered  by  the  younger  Temples.  If  their 
mother's  great  object  had  been  to  gratify 
her  children,  that  object  was'  certainly 
attained. 

"The  dress  which  I  have  tried  to 
imitate,"  said  the  lady,  "  is  that  in  which 


THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  207 


the  liigli-priest  appeared  on  solemn  occa- 
sions. The  Day  of  Atonement  was,  how- 
ever, an  exception ;  on  that  most  solemn 
day  in  the  year,  when  the  high-priest 
ventured  into  the  Holy  of  holies,  he  did 
so  in  simple  garments  of  pure  white  linen." 

The  mother  then  showed  and  explained 
to  her  family  the  different  articles  of 
dress  on  her  curious  model.  The  under- 
tunie,  or  shirt,  of  linen,  and  above  it  the 
mantle  of  sky-blue  color,  having  at  the 
bottom  an  ornamental  border  or  fringe. 

"  This  fringe,  which,  as  you  see,  I  have 
cut  out  in  the  form  of  tiny  pomegranates, 
ought  to  be  interspersed  with  bells  of 
gold,"  said  Mrs.  Temple  ;  "  but  my  fingers 
could  not  succeed  in  making  anything  so 
very  minute." 

"  And  unless  we  had  looked  through  a 


208      the  children's  tabernacle. 


microscope,  we  could  not  have  distin- 
guished bells  no  bigger  than  needles' 
eyes,"  observed  Lucius. 

"  And  what  is  this  fine  uppermost  gar- 
ment, reaching  to  the  knees?"  inquired 
Dora,  looking  admiringly  on  the  delicate 
embroidery  in  gold  and  colors  similar  to 
that  which  she  had  herself  worked  for  the 
Veil,  only  a  great  deal  finer. 

"  This  is  the  Ephod,"  replied  Mrs.  Tem- 
ple. "  On  the  front  of  it  I  have,  as  you 
see,  worked  in  very  small  beads  of 
various  colors  an  imitation  of  the  high- 
priest's  breastplate,  which  was  formed  of 
twelve  precious  stones." 

The  minute  breastplate  excited  more 
attention  than  any  other  part  of  the 
high-priest's  dress,  and  had,  perhaps, 
given  the    skilful  worker    more    trouble 


THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  209 


than  all  the  rest.  Every  one  of  the  little 
beads  was  of  a  different  tint.  They  were 
closely  set  together  in  rows,  so  as  to  form 
a  square  ornament,  and  were  fastened  to 
the  shoulder  parts  of  the  Ephod  by  little 
threads  o  f  gold. 

"  How  very  splendid  the  real  breastplate 
must  have  been !"  exclaimed  Dora  Temple. 

"  Had  it  also  some  typical  meaning  ?" 
asked  Lucius.  "  I  suppose  so,"  he  added, 
"  as  everything  about  the  Tabernacle  and 
the  high-priest  seems  to  have  been  a  type 
of  something  greater." 

"  On  each  of  the  precious  stones  in  the 

splendid    breastplate   was  inscribed    the 

names  of  one  of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel," 

replied  Mrs.  Temple.     "  I  believe  that  the 

breastplate  was  worn  by  the  high-priest, 

who  was  to  pray  in  the  Tabernacle  for  the 

14 


210    THE  CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE. 


people,  and  then  to  come  forward  and 
bless  them,  as  a  token  that  he  bore  theb 
names  on  his  heart." 

"Oh,  that  is  a  beautiful  meaning!' 
cried  Amy;  " especially  when  we  think," 
she  continued,  more  softly,  "  that  the 
high-priest  was  a  type  of  our  blessed 
Saviour  Himself." 

"  "Who  bears  all  His  people's  names  on 
his  heart,"  observed  Mrs.  Temple  ;  "  both 
when  He  pleads  for  them  in  heaven,  and 
when  He  blesses  them  upon  earth." 

"  The  high- priest  must  have  looked  very 
noble  and  grand  in  his  rich  garments," 
observed  Lucius ;  "  and  yet  it  seems  too 
much  honor  for  any  mere  man  to  be  called 
a  type  of  the  Son  of  God." 

"  Ah,  my  boy !  poor  and  mean  indeed 
must  any  earthly  type  appear  when  com- 


THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  211 


pared  to  the  heavenly  Antitype !"  exclaim- 
ed Mrs.  Temple.  "  That  thought  came 
strongly  to  my  mind  as  I  was  sewing 
together  these  little  worthless  glass  beads 
to  form  the  model  of  the  glorious  breast- 
plate. '  Can  these  wretched  little  atoms 
of  colored  glass,'  I  said  to  myself,  'give 
any  idea  of  magnificent  jewels,  sparkling 
in  light,  set  in,  gold,  and  each  engraved 
with  a  name?'  But  even  so  mean,  and 
small,  and  insignificant  was  Aaron,  in  all 
his  splendor,  compared  to  the  sacred 
Being  who  deigns  to  call  Himself  our 
High-Priest,  and  to  make  intercession  for 
us  above !" 

All  the  party  were  silent  for  several 
moments,  looking  down  at  the  little  model, 
and  thinking  over  the  words  of  their 
mother.     Elsie  then  pointed  to  the  curious 


212      the  children's  tabernacle. 


head-dress  which  appeared  on  the  figure. 
It  was  not  exactly  a  turban,  though  it  was 
formed  of  tight  rolls  of  linen.  It  had  the 
representation  of  a  plate  of  gold  in  front, 
fastened  on  to  it  by  a  blue  thread. 

"That  head-dress  is  called  the  high- 
priest's  bonnet  or  mitre,"  observed  Mrs. 
Temple.  "There  are  rather  different 
opinions  regarding  its  exact  shape.  It 
cost  me  a  good  deal  of  thought  to  contrive 
it,  and  here  again  I  felt  how  impossible  it 
is  to  give  anything  like  a  just  idea  of  the 
real  object  in  a  model  so  small  as  this. 
You  see  that  I  have  not  neglected  to  put 
a  little  gold  plate  on  the  front  of  the 
mitre ;  but  I  had  no  power  to  form  letters 
so  minute  as  to  represent  on  it  what  was 
engraved  on  that  which  the  high-priest 
wore.    This  was '  Holiness  to  the  Lord.'  " 


THE  HIGH-PRIEST.  213 


"Then  the  high-priesfc  had  the  Lord's 
Name  written  over  his  brow,"  observed 
Agnes.  w  It  makes  one  think  of  the  pro- 
mise in  the  Bible,  that  saints  in  heaven 
shall  have  His  Name  written  on  their 
foreheads."     (Eev.  xxii.  4.) 

"All  will  be  ' Holiness  to  the  Lord'  in 
that  happy  plaoe !"  observed  Amy. 

It  was  pleasanter  to  Dora  to  examine 
the  little  model  before  her,  and  to  admire 
and  praise  her  mother's  skill,  than  to  think 
of  what  was  inscribed  on  the  mitre  worn 
by  Aaron  and  his  successors.  It  is  the 
sad,  sad  effect  of  sin  concealed  in  the  heart, 
that  it  keeps  those  who  indulge  it  from 
daring  even  to  wish  to  be  holy. 

The  Tabernacle  was  now  carefully  taken 
down,  piece  by  piece,  to  be  packed  in  a 
box,  ready  to  be  carried  along  with  the 


214      the  children's  tabernacle. 


rest  of  their  luggage  when  the  family 
should  quit  their  home  for  awhile.  Every 
curtain  was  neatly  folded,  and  all  the 
pillars  carefully  wrapped  up  in  paper. 
The  figure  representing  the  high-priest 
was  gently  put  back  into  its  own  little  box, 
and  all  the  other  little  objects  were  packed 
in  cotton,  so  as  to  bear  without  injury  a 
little  jolting  on  the  journey  before  them. 

"With  additional  pleasure  the  young 
Temples  now  looked  forward  to  the  coming 
Christmas  season,  and  the  long-expected 
visit  which  they  were  to  pay  to  their  Aunt 
Theodora. 


XVII. 


%\t  giriljbag  (gifts. 

EVEKA.L  months  have  passed  away 

since  the   Temples  began  making 

their  model   of  the  Tabernacle  of 

Israel.       The    leaves    which    were 

then  green   on  the   trees,   have    become 

yellow,  have  faded  and  fallen  ;  save  those 

on  the   evergreens,   which  wear   a   silver 

crusting  of  frost.     But  it  is  not  to  Cedar 

Lodge  that  I  shall  take  my  young  readers, 

but  to  a  large  and  rather  plain  brick  house 

in  the  city  of  Chester.     It  is  a  house  by  no 

means  beautiful  to  the   eye,  and  its  only 

(215) 


216      the  childken's  tabebnacle. 


look-out  is  into  a  narrow  paved  street ; 
but  still  that  house  has  a  charm  of  its  own, 
it  is  dear  to  many  a  heart,  for  its  owner, 
Miss  Theodora  Clare,  is  the  friend  and 
benefactress  of  the  poor  around.  Many 
have  entered  sadly  through  the  dark  green 
door  of  that  red-brick  house,  who  have 
left  it  cheerfully,  blessing  the  kind  heart 
and  liberal  hand  of  its  lady. 

It  is  just  two  days  before  Christmas : 
on  the  morrow  Miss  Clare's  Eagged  School 
is  to  have  its  annual  treat.  A  feast  and 
gifts  of  warm  socks  or  mittens  knitted  for 
each  child  by  the  lady's  own  hands,  are 
not  to  form  the  only,  or  perhaps  the  chief 
attractions  of  the  treat ;  the  little  scholars 
have  been  promised  a  sight  of  the  model 
Tabernacle,  which  its  young  makers  are 
to  bring  from  their  country  home,  about 


THE  BIRTHDAY  GIFTS.  217 


ten  miles  away.  Christmas  Eve  lias  been 
fixed  upon  by  Miss  Clare  as  the  time  for 
her  Kagged  School  Fete,  because  it  is 
the  birthday  of  her  twin  nieces,  the  young- 
er of  whom  is  her  namesake.  The  arrival 
of  the  Temple  family  is  expected  almost 
every  minute,  and  Miss  Clare  sits  by  the 
window,  with  the  red  glow  of  a  December 
sun  upon  her,  glancing  up  with  a  look  of 
pleasant  expectation  whenever  she  hears 
the  rattle  of  wheels  along  the  narrow 
paved  street.  You  might  guess  at  once 
by  the  likeness  between  them  that  Miss 
Clare  is  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Temple,  though 
her  figure  is  a  little  taller,  and  her  locks  a 
little  whiter  than  those  of  the  widow  lady. 
Miss  Clare  is  evidently  thinking ;  she 
looks  a  little  perplexed  and  doubtful  as 
she  examines  the  contents  of  a  large  old- 


218      the  children's  tabernacle. 


fashioned  ebony  box  which,  holds  her  little 
treasures.  Not  treasures  of  silver  or 
gold ;  there  are  but  few  indeed  of  such 
things  in  the  possession  of  Theodora 
Clare :  her  silver  spoons  have  fed  the 
hungry ;  her  gold  chain  has  paid  for  the 
benches  on  which  her  ragged  scholars  sit, 
and  her  bracelets  for  the  books  which 
they  learn  from,  and  the  big  blackboard 
on  the  wall.  A  good  many  pairs  of  stout 
little  shoes  have  come  out  of  Miss  Clare's 
silver  tea-pot !  But  there  is  one  article 
of  jewellery  which  the  lady  still  possesses, 
and  this  is  to  her  the  most  precious  of  all. 
It  is  the  likeness  of  her  sister,  Mrs.  Tem- 
ple, in  a  brooch,  set  round  with  pearls. 
This  was  the  gift  of  Mr.  Temple  on  his 
wedding-day  to  the  bridesmaid,  Theodora ; 
it  is  very  beautiful  as  an  ornament,  and  as 


THE  BIRTHDAY  GIFTS.  219 


a  likeness  almost  perfect.  But  not  even 
this  jewel  does  the  generous  lady  intend 
to  keep  for  herself ;  it  is  to  be  her  birth- 
day present  on  the  following  day  to  Dora. 
Miss  Clare  has  for  years  settled  in  her 
own  mind  that  her  god-daughter  should 
receive  the  precious  brooch  on  completing 
the  twelfth  year  of  her  age  ;  it  is  no  doubt 
upon  this  subject  that  perplexes  her  now ; 
(for  the  lady  does  look  a  little  perplexed 
as  she  searches  her  old-fashioned  box  for 
something  which  she  seems  to  have  some 
difficulty  in  finding).  She  opens  this  little 
packet,  then  that  little  packet,  then  silently 
shakes  her  head,  or  murmurs  "  No,  that 
will  not  do,"  as  she  replaces  it  in  the  large 
box.  The  reader  knows  that  Dora  has  a 
twin  sister,  and  that  the  birthday  of  the 
one  is  also  the  birthday  of  the  other. 


220      the  children's  tabernacle. 


Miss  Clare  does  not  like  to  give  to  Dora 
without  also  giving  to  Agnes,  and  as  her 
hospitality  and  her  charities  leave  her 
very  little  money  for  buying  presents,  she 
wishes  to  find  some  suitable  article  already 
in  her  possession  of  which  to  make  a 
birthday  remembrance.  But  what  should 
that  article  be  ?  Almost  everything  that 
would  please  a  young  girl  had  already 
been  given  away. 

"  I  have  nothing — nothing  that  can  be 
compared  in  value  or  in  beauty  with  the 
brooch,"  said  Miss  Clare  to  herself,  as 
she  locked  the  box  where  she  had  been 
vainly  searching  amongst  locks  of  hair 
neatly  wrapped  in  separate  papers,  old 
letters,  and  little  pictures  faded  and  yellow 
with  time.  "  I  hope  that  Agnes  is  too 
sensible  a  girl  to  expect  that  my  precious 


THE  BIKTHDAT  GUTS.  221 


brooch  should  be  given  to  herself  instead 
of  to  my  namesake,  who  is  to  me  almost 
as  a  daughter  ;  but  still  Agnes  is  the  elder 
of  the  twins;  she  is,  I  fear,  of  rather  a 
jealous  temper;  her  character  has  not — ■ 
or  had  not  a  year  ago — the  generosity  and 
sweetness  of  that  of  my  Dora.  I  should 
be  grieved  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  either 
of  the  dear  girls;  what  can  I  find  that 
will  really  please  Agnes  ?" 

Miss  Glare  had  really  given  the  subject 
a  good  deal  of  consideration,  though 
apparently  to  little  purpose,  when  a 
thought  occurred  to  her  mind  which 
brought  a  smile  of  satisfaction  to  her  kind 
pleasant  face.  Miss  Clare  rose  from  her 
seat  by  the  window,  and  went  to  a  table 
which  had  in  it  a  drawer,  hidden  by  the 
neat  brown  cloth  that  hung  over  the  sides. 


222      the  children's  tabernacle. 


The  lady  lifted  the  cloth,  drew  open  the 
drawer,  and  then  took  from  it  a  flat  parcel 
wrapped  in  a  peculiar  kind  of  yelldwish 
paper,  with  that  scent  about  it  which  usu- 
ally pervades  articles  which  have  come 
from  India. 

"  Here  is  the  delicate  little  embroidered 
neck-scarf  which  was  sent  to  me  years 
ago,  and  which  I  have  always  thought 
much  too  fine  for  my  wear,"  said  the  lady? 
as  she  opened  the  parcel.  "  This  will  of 
course  be  a  gift  not  to  be  compared  to  the 
brooch ;  but  still  it  is  pretty,  very  pretty  ; 
I  think  that  Agnes  is  sure  to  admire  it." 

It  was  indeed  impossible  not  to  admire 
the  exquisite  embroidery  in  gold  and 
colors  on  the  small  India-muslin  scarf. 
The  natives  of  India  excel  in  this  kind  of 
work,  and  the  little  scarf  was  a  gem  of 


THE  BIRTHDAY  GIFTS.  223 


beauty  for  richness  of  pattern  and  bright- 
ness of  hue.  Miss  Clare's  only  doubt  was 
whether  such  an  article  of  dress  were  not 
too  gay  to  be  given  to  her  young  niece. 

Miss  Clare  had  little  time  to  think  over 
this  matter,  for  hardly  had  she  put  back 
the  pretty  piece  of  embroidery  into  its 
paper  wrapping,  and  then  replaced  it  in 
the  drawer,  when  the  rattle  of  wheels  was 
heard  on  the  stones,  and  a  large  carriage, 
well  filled  within,  and  with  plenty  of  lug- 
gage without,  was  driven  up  to  the  door. 
Well  Miss  Clare  knew  the  smiling  eager 
faces  which  crowded  the  carriage  window, 
and  the  merry  young  voices  which  sound- 
ed through  the  clear  cold  winter  air.  The 
lady  ran  hurriedly  to  meet  and  welcome 
the  party,  and  was  at  the  open  door,  not- 
withstanding the  cold  of  frosty  December, 


224      the  children's  tabernacle. 


before  Mrs.  Temple  and  her  five  children 
could  manage  to  get  out  of  the  carriage 
in  which  they  had  been  too  closely  packed 
for  comfort,  but  in  which  they  had  been 
very  noisy  and  merry.  All  trace  of 
whooping  cough  had  long  since  departed, 
and  the  sounds  which  had  been  heard  in 
the  carriage  had  been  only  those  of  talk- 
ing, laughing,  and  singing ! 


XYIII. 


lIND,  coachman,  mind !  You  must 
hand  down  that  box  very  care- 
fully !"  shouted  out  Lucius  to  the 
driver,  who  was  now  engaged  in 
taking  down  the  luggage.  The  boy  had 
been  the  first  of  the  party  to  spring  out 
of  the  carriage,  but  he  was  the  last  to 
enter  the  house,  for  all  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  be  taken  up  by  the  long,  flat 
deal  box  which  had  been  put  under  the 
special  care  of  the  coachman,  with  many 

a  charge  to  see  that  no  harm  should  come 

15  (£.25 ) 


226      the  childeen's  tabernacle. 


to  it  on  the  journey.  Had  the  box  been  a 
cradle  containing  a  baby,  it  could  hardly 
have  been  more  gently  and  carefully 
received  from  the  coachman's  hands,  and 
then  carried  up  the  door-steps  and  into 
the  red- brick  house  by  Lucius.  Did  it 
not  hold  the  result  of  the  labor  of  many 
weeks! — was  there  not  in  it  the  work 
completed  by  the  family's  united  efforts, 
the  beautiful  model  of  the  Tabernacle 
made  by  the  children  of  Israel ! 

"  Oh,  auntie,  here  is  our  great  work— 
our  model!  Where  shall  we  set  it  up? 
Have  you  a  table  ready?  It  is  all 
finished — every  loop !  Oh,  you  must  see 
it !  you  must  see  it !"  Such  were  the 
exclamations  which  burst  from  the  chil- 
dren  as  Lucius  appeared  in  the  hall, 
laden  with  the  long,  flat  deal  box. 


THE  ARRIVAL.  227 


Miss  Clare  had  not  yet  seen  the  model, 
though  she  had  heard  a  great  deal  about 
it,  and  had  given  notice  to  many  friends 
and  neighbors  of  the  little  exhibition  of 
it,*  to  be  held  in  her  house  through  the 
following  week,  for  the  benefit  of  her 
school.  She  was  amused  at  the  eager 
impatience  shown  by  the  youtbful  workers. 
Except  Agnes,  who  took  the  matter  more 
quietly,  none  of  the  Temples  cared  even 
to- warm  themselves  by  the  blazing  fire 
after  their  wintry  journey  until  the  model 
Tabernacle  had  been  unpacked  from  its 
box. 

"  Please,  auntie,  please  don't  look  at  it 
till  it's  all  set  up !"  exclaimed  Elsie,  in  a 

*  A.  L.  O.  E.  remembers  attending,  many  y 
ago,  exactly  snch  an  exhibition  at  the  house 
friend,  of  a  model  of  the  Tabernacle  made  by  a 
and  her  children  for  some  charitable  purpose. 


228      the  children's  tabernacle. 


tone  of  entreaty.  "  You  can  talk  to 
mamma,  you  know,  while  we  are  unrolling 
the  little  curtains  (I  did  the  Turkey-red 
curtains) — and  fastening  them  up  on  the 
gilded  pillars  by  the  wee  wee  loops  which 
are  made  of  silver  thread  !" 

Miss  Clare  was  quite  willing  to  indulge 
the  humor  of  her  young  guests,  so  that 
she  did  not  even  remain  in  the  room  while 
the  Tabernacle  was  being  put  up  on 
the  table  set  apart  for  the  purpose.  She 
took  her  sister,  Mrs.  Temple,  up -stairs, 
and  helped  her  to  take  off  her  cloak  and 
furs,  and  talked  over  many  subjects  with 
her,  while  the  young  people  below  were 
busily  engaged  with  their  model.  It  was 
not  until  nearly  two  hours  had  elapsed, 
and  after  the  party  had  all  partaken 
of  a  dinner  of  roast  beef  and  plum-pud- 


THE  AERIYAL.  229 


ding,  tli  at  Miss  Clare  re-entered  her  own 
sitting-room  to  have  her  first  sight  of  the 
wonderful  work. 

For  wonderful  it  was  in  the  eyes  of  its 
youthful  contrivers,  who  knew  the  trouble 
which  it  had  cost  them  to  finish  and  fix 
those  numerous  pillars  and  curtains,  with 
sockets  and  loops.  The  Temples  regarded 
their  model  as  a  triumph  of  art  and 
patience,  much  as  the  builder  of  one  of 
the  Pyramids  may  have  regarded  his  own 
gigantic  work.  Miss  Clare  was  expected 
to  look  and  feel  a  good  deal  more 
astonished  than  she  could  in  sincerity  do ; 
but  if  she  was  not  astonished,  at  least  she 
was  pleased,  and  showed  that  she  was  so. 

"  It's  a  pity,  auntie,  that  you  can't  see 
more  of  my  Turkey-red  curtains ;  I  wish 
they'd  been  the   top   ones,"  cried  Elsie, 


230      the  children's  tabernacle. 


lifting  up  a  corner  of  the  merino  covering 
to  show  her  own  work  beneath. 

"  These  linen  curtains  round  the  court  of 
the  Tabernacle  are  neatly,  very  neatly 
made,"  observed  Miss  Clare ;  "  with  so 
many  silver  loops  they  must  have  re- 
quired a  great  deal  of  patience  in  the 
worker." 

Amy  colored  with  pleasure  at  tlie 
praise ;  she  had  not  expected  her  own 
share  of  the  work  to  attract  much  notice. 
She  now  silently  drew  her  aunt's  attention 
to  the  pretty  little  gilded  pillars  upon 
which  her  curtains  were  hung. 

"  But  the  beauty  part — the  real  beauty 
part — is  the  'broidery,  the  inner  curtains, 
and  the  veil!"  exclaimed  Elsie.  "Oh, 
auntie,  you  will  be  astonished  at  them. 
Just  stoop  down  and  look  in — just  look 


THE  ARRIVAL.  231 


in !  We've  managed  to  leave  the  front 
open,  and  the  veil  is  half-drawn  aside,  so 
that  yon  can  see  the  inner  part  quite  well. 
No  one  could  see  the  inner  part  of  the 
real  Tabernacle,  yon  know  ;  but  then  ours 
is  onlv  a  model." 

The  lady  stooped,  as  requested,  and 
looked  through  the  space  between  the 
front  pillars,  not  only  into  the  outer  Taber- 
nacle, but  beyond  the  veil  into  what,  in 
the  model,  represented  the  Holy  of  holies. 
Dora,  who  had  for  months  been  looking 
forward  to  this  moment,  listened  eagerly 
to  hear  what  her  darling  aunt  would  say 
of  her  work. 

Miss  Clare,  it  will  be  remembered,  had 
that  day  been  examining  a  lovely  specimen 
of  some  of  the  most  finished  embroidery 
to  be  found  in   any   part  of  the  world. 


232      the  children's  tabernacle. 


Dora's  work  was  clever,  regarded  as  that 
of  a  girl  not  twelve  years  of  age,  who  had 
had  to  contrive  her  own  pattern ;  but  it 
was,  of  course,  very  poor  compared  to  that 
on  the  Indian  scarf. 

"  Is  it  not  splendid  'broidery  ?"  persisted 
Elsie,  who  wished  others  to  share  her  own 
unbounded  admiration  for  the  work  of  a 
favorite  sister. 

"  It  is  nice,"  said  Aunt  Theodora,  quietly, 
"  but  wants  a  little  more  scarlet,  I  think." 

And  was  this  all  that  could  be  said  of 
that  which  had  cost  Dora  hours  of  thought, 
and  many  hours  of  patient  labor — these 
few  words  of  qualified  praise !  Dora  was 
bitterly  disappointed,  far  more  disap- 
pointed than  Agnes,  whose  curtains,  whe- 
ther mohair  or  merino,  seemed  to  win  no 
notice  at  all.     There  was  good  reason  why 


THE  ABEIVAL.  233 


Dora  should  feel  pain  which  Agnes  was 
spared.  It  was  not  time  and  labor  only 
which  the  younger  twin  had  given  to  gain 
success ;  she  had  made  a  sacrifice  of  con- 
science, she  had  forfeited  her  own  self- 
respect,  she  had  lost  the  blessing  of  con- 
fidential intercourse  with  her  mother,  and 
all  pleasure  and  comfort  in  prayer !  Dora 
had  given  up  all  this,  and  for  what  ?  To 
hear  the  observation,  by  no  means  un- 
kindly uttered,  "It  is  nice,  but  wants  a 
little  more  scarlet." 

If  Dora  had  ever  believed  that  in  work- 
ing her  embroidery  she  had  really  been 
laboring  for  anything  higher  than  earthly 
pleasure  or  human  praise,  the  extreme 
vexation  which  she  now  experienced  must 
surely  have  undeceived  her.  Why  should 
she  care  so  much  for  what  was  said  of 


234      the  children's  tabernacle. 


her  performance  if  her  real  object  Was  bu+ 
to  please  her  Heavenly  Master?  Agnes 
and  Amy,  who  had  worked  from  motives  of 
duty  and  love,  were  safe  from  any  such 
keen  disappointment.  They  both  looked 
with  pleasure  on  the  completed  model,  in 

forming  which  they  had  taken  inferior 
parts;  while  Dora  had  to  walk  to  the 
window  to  hide  from  the  eyes  of  her 
family  the  mortification  which  she  felt. 

That  day  was  a  very  happy  one  to  all 
the  members  of  the  Temple  family,  Dora 
alone  excepted.  She  felt  a  kind  of  dread 
of  the  evening  conversation  which  she  knew 
that  she  would  have  with  her  aunt.  The 
eve  of  her  last  birthday  Dora  remembered 
as,  perhaps,  the  happiest  time  of  her  life. 
Aunt  Theodora  had  come  to  sit  with  her, 
and  talk  to  her  of  her  coming  birthday — > 


THE  ARRIVAL.  235 


A  new  milestone,  as  she  called  it,  on  the 
pilgrim's  path  towards  heaven.  Dora  had 
©n  that  evening  opened  her  heart  to  her 
aunt,  and  the  two  had  loved  each  other 
more  fondly  than  they  ever  had  loved 
before,  and  their  parting  embrace  had 
been  so  sweet  that  Dora  had  felt  that 
she  could  never  forget  it.  Miss  Clare  was 
certain  to  come  again  this  evening  into 
her  room — in  this  house  Dora  had  a  little 
room  to  herself — and  must  the  niece  act 
the  hypocrite's  part  to  an  aunt  so  loving 
and  true;  must  the  girl  so  trusted  and 
loved  make  a  show  of  openness  while 
concealing  a  secret  from  her  aunt,  which, 
if  confessed,  must  lower  her  in  the  eyes 
of  that  tender  relative  and  friend  ? 

Miss  Clare  did  indeed  come  that  night, 
as  Dora  had  expected   that   she   would 


236      the  children's  tabernacle. 


come.  The  girl  soon  found  herself  sitting 
on  a  stool  with  her  arms  resting  on  her 
aunt's  knee,  as  they  had  rested  twelve 
months  before;  and  she  heard  the  same 
dear  voice  speaking  to  her  of  holy  things, 
as  she  had  heard  on  that  well-remembered 
night.  The  room  was  the  same,  the 
furniture,  the  pictures  were  all  the  same, 
but  Dora  felt  in  her  own  heart  a  miserable 
change.  Half  a  dozen  times  was  the  poor 
girl  on  the  point  of  laying  her  head  on  her 
aunt's  knee,  and  sobbing  forth  a  full  con- 
fession to  relieve  her  burdened  heart.  But 
to  own  repeated  falsehood  and  long  deceit 
to  one  herself  so  truthful,  to  lose  the  good 
opinion  of  one  whose  regard  she  so  greatly 
valued,  oh!  Dora  could  not  muster  up 
courage  sufficient  for  this ! 

"  And  now  that  you  are  making  a  new 


THE  ARRIVAL.  237 


start  in  life's  journey,  my  child,"  such 
were  the  .aunt's  concluding  words  as  she 
rose  to  depart,  "  give  yourself  anew  to  the 
best  of  Masters,  the  most  tender  of 
Friends.  Ask  His  blessing  upon  all  that 
you  do :  without  that  blessing  our  best 
works  are  but  like  building  on  sand,  or 
writing  on  water — all  end  in  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit.  The  great  lesson  taught 
us  by  the  history  of  ancient  Israel  is  this  : 
the  path  of  obedience  is  the  path  of  safety 
and  happiness  also.  When  God's  people 
followed  where  He  led,  and  did  what  He 
commanded,  then  were  their  hearts  filled 
with  joy,  and  their  harps  tuned  to  glad 
songs  of  triumph ;  but  when  the  Israelites 
turned  aside  to  paths  of  disobedience, 
sorrow  followed  close  upon  sin ;  they 
J  ung  their  harps  on  the  willows,  and,  exiles 


238 


THE  CHILDEEN  S   TABEKNACLE. 


from  their  beautiful  land,  they  wept  when 
they  remembered  the  blessings  which 
would  still  have  been  theirs,  had  they  not 
forsaken  their  God  l" 


XIX. 

gbappoktment 

|HE  birthday  of  the  twins  had 
arrived ;  but  the  sun  rises  late  on 
c&jj  the  twenty-fourth  of  December, 
<fjr  and  Dora  was  up,  dressing  by 
candlelight,  long  before  his  first  beams 
shone  on  the  sheet  of  pure  white  snow 
which  had  fallen  during  the  night.  It 
might  be  supposed  that  Dora's  thoughts 
would  be  on  the  words  of  advice  which  she 
had  heard  on  the  previous  night ;  but 
though  these  words  had  made  some  im- 
pression at  the  time,  it  was  by  no  means 

(239) 


240      the  children's  tabernacle. 


•upon  tliem  that  the  girl's  mind  was  run- 
ning when  she  awoke  in  the  morning. 
Dora  was  thinking  of  her  embroidery  work 
— that  work  of  which  she  had  been  so 
proud,  that  work  which  had  cost  her  so 
dear.  Nothing  that  Miss  Clare  had  said 
dwelt  so  much  on  the  memory  of  her  niece 
as  the  simple  observation,  "  It  wants  a 
little  more  scarlet,  I  think." 

For  on  the  mantelpiece  of  the  room  now 
occupied  by  Dora,  there  chanced  to  stand 
a  glass  bottle,  corked  and  labelled ;  and 
by  the  light  of  her  candle  Dora  had  no- 
ticed that  "scarlet  ink"  was  printed 
upon  the  label.  The  sight  of  that  little 
bottle  had  roused  in  the  mind  of  the  girl 
new  hopes,  and  again  turned  her  energies 
into  the  channel  of  work. 

"  My  supply   of  scarlet  silk  ran  short, 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  241 


and  I  was  not  able  to  get  another  skein  at 
the  shop,"  thought  Dora.  "  Aunt  is  quite 
right,  there  is  not  enough  of  scarlet  mixed 
with  the  purple  and  blue ;  it  is  that  which 
spoils  the  effect  of  my  curtains.  I  wonder 
that  no  one  noticed  that  before !  But  I 
have  a  skein  of  white  silk  with  me,  and  why 
should  I  not  dye  it  myself  with  that  beau- 
tiful scarlet  ink  ?  This  is  a  capital  idea ! 
The  school  children  do  not  come  till  the 
afternoon  ;  I  should  have  time  to  dye  my 
silk  before  breakfast,  and  after  breakfast 
to  work  enough  scarlet  into  my  pattern  to 
give  a  brilliant  effect  to  all  that  part  which 
is  most  easily  seen.  How  pleased  Aunt 
Theodora  will  be  to  find  that  I  have  taken 
her  hint,  and  that  I  grudge  no  extra 
trouble    to    make    my    work    complete ! 

16 


242      the  children's  tabernacle. 


How  very  lucky  it  is  that  sue  pat  that  ink 
into  my  room  1" 

Dora  actually  forgot  both  her  prayers 
and  her  Scripture  reading  on  that  birthday 
morning,  in  her  impatience  to  get  down- 
stairs and  quietly  remove  her  inner  veil 
and  curtains  from  the  model,  before  any 
other  member  of  the  family  should  enter 
the  room  where  it  was  kept.  With  rough 
hair,  and  dress  only  half-buttoned,  Dora 
noiselessly  opened  her  door,  and  then 
crept  down  the  staircase,  and  into  the 
sitting-room  in  which  the  Tabernacle 
stood,  covered  from  the  dust  by  large 
sheets  of  silver  paper.  There  was  no  one 
in  the  room  except  the  housemaid,  who 
was  employed  in  opening  the  shutters 
to  let  in  the  light  of  morning. 

The  model,  as  we  know,  was  made  to  be 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  243 


taken  to  pieces  at  will ;  but  as  Dora's  set 
of  curtains  was  the  innermost  of  all,  it 
cost  her  some  time  and  trouble  to  remove 
them.  She  pursued  her  occupation,  while 
the  housemaid  went  on  with  that  of  light- 
ing the  fire  and  dusting  the  room,  and 
was  at  last  able  to  disengage  the  whole  of 
the  embroidered  portion  of  the  drapery  of 
the  little  Tabernacle.  With  this  Dora  re- 
turned to  her  own  apartment,  and  she  laid 
her  work  on  the  pretty  little  table  which 
her  aunt  had  placed  for  her  convenience. 
"  I  must  be  quick  about  the  dyeing," 
said  Dora  to  herself,  "for  I  can  hear 
Lucius  whistling  up-stairs  in  the  passage, 
and  little  Elsie  running  about  in  the  room 
just  over  my  head.  The  family  is  now  all 
astir,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the 
prayer-bell  will  ring.     If  I  don't  dye  my 


244      the  children's  tabernacle. 


silk  scarlet  at  once  I  shall  be  sadly  delayed 
in  my  work,  for  I  cannot,  of  course,  use  it 
for  sewing  until  it  is  perfectly  dry." 

So  Dora  took  the  bottle  of  ink  down 
from  its  place  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  in 
a  great  hurry  set  about  removing  the 
sealing-wax  which  covered  the  cork,  for 
the  bottle  had  not  yet  been  opened.  It 
was  a  tolerably  easy  matter  to  break  off 
the  edges  of  the  red  wax,  but  Dora  did 
not  find  it  easy  at  all  to  pull  out  the  cork, 
which  was  low  in  the  narrow  neck  of  the 
bottle,  and  happened  to  be  a  very  tight 
fit. 

"  Dear !  dear!  how  troublesome  this  is  I" 
exclaimed  Dora,  hunting  about  for  her 
stout  pair  of  nail  scissors  to  help  her  in 
forcing  out  the  obstinate  cork. 

"  Good    morning,    Dora    dear,    many 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  245 


happy  returns  of  the  day  to  you !"  cried 
the  merry  voice  of  Elsie,  as  she  tapped  at 
the  door  of  her  sister. 

"  Thank  you,  darling,  don't  come  in 
now;  I'll  soon  be  down-stairs — I'm  not 
quite  ready !"  called  out  Dora,  who  had 
just  succeeded  in  finding  the  scissors. 
She  heard  the  little  feet  patter  down  the 
stairs. 

"  Happy  birthday  to  you,  Dora !  Mind 
you're  not  late,  Miss  Twelve-years-old !" 
This  time  it  was  the  voice  of  Lucius  at 
the  door. 

"No,  no,  I'll  not  be  late;  I'll  be  down 
in  ten  minutes !"  cried  Dora,  digging  her 
scissors  vigorously  into  the  cork.  The 
clatter  of  Lucius's  boots  showed  that  he 
had  followed  little  Elsie. 

"Oh,   this   cork,  this  tiresome  cork!" 


246      the  children's  tabernacle. 


exclaimed  Dora;  "there,  it's  out  at  last;" 
and  setting  the  opened  bottle  on  the 
table,  she  turned  round  in  a  great  flurry 
to  get  from  her  box  the  skein  of  silk 
which  was  to  be  changed  from  white 
to  scarlet. 

"More  haste,  less  speed."  Dora  was 
not  the  first  who  has  proved  the  truth  of 
that  proverb.  She  whisked  round  so 
rapidly  that  her  dress  struck  the  top  of  the 
bottle  which  she  had  carelessly  set  down 
in  a  place  that  was  not  very  safe.  The 
bottle  was  knocked  over,  but  it  fell  upon 
something  soft  which  lay  on  the  table,  so 
that  it  was  neither  broken,  nor  did  it 
make  enough  noise  in  falling  to  attract  the 
attention  of  Dora.  It  was  .  not  till  she 
had  found  the  skein  (which  she  had  some 
trouble  in  doing),  that  on  turning  back  to 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  247 


the  table  she  perceived  the  mischief 
caused  by  her  hasty  movement. 

What  a  start  and  exclamation  of  dis- 
tress were  given  by  poor  Dora  when  she 
saw  on  the  table  her  embroidery  lying 
actually  under  the  overturned  bottle,  and 
soaked  through  and  through  with  the 
scarlet  ink  which  had  flowed  in  abundance 
from  it ! 

Dora  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  rooted 
to  the  spot,  scarcely  able  to  believe  her 
own  eyes.  She  then  darted  forward, 
caught  up  the  half-emptied  bottle  in  one 
hand,  and  the  stained,  dripping  linen  in 
the  other.  The  first  glance  at  the  em- 
broidery showed  the  poor  girl  that  the 
mischief  done  was  utterly  beyond  repair- 
ing ;  in  one  minute  the  fruit  of  all  her  long 
toil  had  been  completely  destroyed  ! 


248      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"  Oh,  it  is  all  my  own  fault — all  my  own 
fault — it  could  not  have  prospered !"  cried 
out  Dora,  in  a  loud  tone  of  anguish,  as 
she  put  down  first  the  bottle,  then  the 
embroidery,  and  then,  hiding  her  face 
with  her  scarlet-stained  fingers,  she  burst 
into  a  passion  of  weeping. 

That  cry,  that  weeping,  reached  the 
ears  of  her  aunt,  who  had  just  approached 
her  door,  carrying  with  her  the  destined 
gifts  for  the  twins — the  Indian  scarf,  and 
the  brooch  with  the  miniature  set  in 
pearls. 

"  My  darling  girl,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 
exclaimed  Miss  Clare,  opening  the  door  in 
alarm.  There  was  no  need  to  repeat  the 
unanswered  question ;  the  bottle,  the  little 
heap  of  embroidered  linen  dripping  with 
scarlet  ink,  told  their  own  story  plainly 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  249 


enough.  Miss  Clare  saw  the  nature  of 
the  accident  which  had  happened,  and, 
with  kind  sympathy  for  her  niece's  great 
disappointment,  folded  her  affectionately 
in  her  arms. 


XX 


€oxdmiaxt. 


'T  is  vexatious,  my  Dora,  very  vexa- 
tious," said  Miss  Clare,  in  a  tone  of 
condolence  ;  "  it  is  trying  to  you, 
after  all  the  pains  which  you  have 
bestowed  on  your  work,  to  see  that  work 
suddenly  spoiled.  But  still  take  comfort, 
dear  child,  in  the  thought  that  no  labor 
undertaken  for  our  Master  can  really  be 
lost." 

Dora  sobbed  more  bitterly  than  before, 
for  she  knew  that  hers  had  not  been  labor 
undertaken  for  the  Master,  and  she  felt 

i250) 


CONFESSION.  251 


that  her  time  and  toil  had  been  worse 
than  lost. 

Miss  Clare  did  all  that  she  could  to 
comfort  her  favorite  niece.  She  showed 
Dora  the  beautiful  brooch  which  she  her- 
self valued  so  greatly;  she  told  her  that 
she  had  brought  it  as  a  birthday  remem- 
brance ;  but,  much  to  the  lady's  surprise, 
Dora  only  shook  her  head  sadly,  and 
sobbed  forth,  "Not  for  me — not  for  me! 
Oh,  that  model,  I  wish  that  I  never  had 
touched  it — I  wish  that  I  had  never  set  a 
stitch  in  one  of  those  curtains !" 

"  I  see  that  you  are  distressed,  very 
naturally  distressed,  by  the  mishap  which 
has  befallen  your  curtains,  fearing  that 
thereby  the  whole  model  may  be  spoilt," 
observed  Theodora.  "  You  are  thinking 
of  the  disappointment  of  your  brother  and 


252      the  children's  tabernacle. 


sisters,  of  the  Kagged-school  children  who 
are  coming  to-day,  of  my  friends  who  are 
invited  to  see  the  model.  You  think  that 
there  is  no  time  to  repair  the  effects  of 
the  spilling  the  scarlet  ink;  but  I  think 
that  I  see  a  way  to  remedy  the  mischief ;" 
and  Miss  Clare,  as  she  spoke,  placed 
before  the  weeping  girl  her  beautiful  em- 
broidered scarf.  "  I  had  intended  to  give 
this  to  Agnes  when  I  gave  you  the  minia- 
ture brooch,  but  I  will  now  alter  my  plan. 
I  will  try  to  find  out,  or  purchase,  some 
other  remembrance  for  Agnes ;  and,  with 
a  little  alteration,  do  you  not  think,  my 
sweet  girl,  that  this  work  will  do  nicelv 
for  the  inner  curtains  and  veil  ?" 

"A  thousand  times  better  than  mine 
could  have  done  !"  exclaimed  Dora,  dart- 
ing a  glance  of  almost  fierce  dislike  at  the 


CONFESSION.  253 


embroidery,  now  stained  and  maned, 
which  she  had  once  surveyed  with  such 
proud  admiration. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Clare,  very 
kindly  ;  "  for  though  the  Indian  scarf  may 
be — certainly  is  in  itself  more  beautiful 
than  your  curtains,  we  cannot  see  in  /  it 
the  same  token  of  patient  perseverance  in 
making  what  was  intended  to  be  a  humble 
offering  of  love  to  the  Lord." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Theodora,  I  can  stand  this 
no  longer !"  exclaimed  Dora,  almost  chok- 
ing with  the  violence  of  her  emotion ; 
"you  must  know  all,  I  can  hide  it  no 
more ;  you  must  hear  what  a  naughty, 
naughty  girl  I  have  been !" 

Then,  as  well  as  she  could  through  her 
tears  and  her  sobs,  Dora  relieved  herself 
of  the  burden  of  concealment  which  had 


^54      the  children's  tabernacle. 


become  at  last  intolerable.  She  told 
every tbing  to  her  aunt — the  first  fault, 
the  breaking  of  the  fourth  commandment ; 
then  the  falsehood,  the  deceit  which  had 
followed,  for  when  did  an  unrepented  sin 
ever  stand  alone !  Dora  concluded  by 
passionately  exclaiming,  "You  cannot,  you 
must  not,  give  me  the  brooch — Agnes  has 
deserved  it  much  better;  she  has  been 
conquering  her  temper  and  doing  all  that 
she  can  to  please  mamma,  while  I  have 
been  only  a  hypocrite !  Please  give  the 
brooch  to  Agnes,  and  the  scarf  for  the 
model ;  I  could  not  bear  now  to  take 
either— I  who  have  only  deserved  to  be 
punished !" 

Miss  Clare  was  surprised,  pained,  dis- 
appointed by  what  she  now  heard ;  yet 
there  was  comfort  to  her  in  seeing  that 


CONFESSION.  255 


now  at  least  her  poor  niece  was  heartily 
repenting. 

"I  cannot  tell  yon,  my  child,  how 
thankful  I  am  that  this  accident  has 
happened  to  your  work,  and  that  you  have 
been  led  to  speak  ont  bravely  at  last," 
said  her  aunt,  putting  her  arm  round 
Dora,  and  drawing  her  tenderly  towards 
her,  so  that  the  poor  girl  could  weep  on 
her  bosom. 

"  Then  you  don't  despise  me — you  wont 
give  me  up?"  murmured  Dora,  crying  still, 
but  much  more  softly. 

"  Give  you  up — never !"  cried  the  aunt, 
and  she  pressed  a  kiss  upon  Dora's  brow. 
"  It  may  be  a  question,  indeed,  whether  I 
had  not  better  reserve  the  brooch  till 
next  birthday." 

"Oh,   I  never  could   take  it,  never  1" 


256      the  children's  tabernacle. 


cried  Dora,  excitedly ;  "  let  it  be  given  to 
Agnes." 

"  Do  you  think,  Dora,  that  by  giving 
up  the  brooch  you  are  winning  a  claim  to 
forgiveness — that  by  this  sacrifice  you  are 
atoning  for  what  you  have  done  wrong  ?" 
asked  Miss  Clare.  "  If  so,  I  am  bound  to 
•     tell  you  that  you  are  mistaken." 

"  No,  aunt,"  replied  Dora,  for  the  first 
time  raising  her  eyes,  heavy  with  weeping, 
and  looking  her  godmother  full  in  the 
face ;  "  I  know  that  nothing  that  I  can  do 
can  atone  for  my  sin — that  there  is  but 
one  Atonement;  but  I  feel  as  if  I  could 
not  take  the  brooch  which  you  meant  to 
give  to  a  good  girl,  and  which  I  have  so 
little  " —  Dora  could  not  finish  the  sen- 
tence, tears  came  again,  and  she  hid  her 
face  on  the  bosom  of  her  aunt. 


CONFESSION.  257 


Miss  Clare  hesitated  no  longer.  She 
felt  that  it  would  deeply  impress  on  the 
mind  of  Dora  the  painful  lesson  which 
she  was  learning,  if  she  saw  the  brooch  in 
the  possession  of  her  elder  twin.  What 
Theodora  had  heard  from  Mrs.  Temple  of 
the  marked  improvement  in  the  character 
of  Agnes,  convinced  her  that  she  was  the 
sister  who  best  deserved  to  receive  the 
miniature  of  her  mother.  Miss  Clare 
made  a  sacrifice  of  her  own  inclination  in 
thus  deciding  to  follow  her  judgment,  but 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  what  she 
thought  right,  instead  of  what  she  thought 
pleasant. 

"  I  will  confess  all  to  mamma,  now,  just 
as  I  have  done  to  you — I  wont  be  a  hypo- 
crite any   longer,"   murmured   Dora,   as 

soon  as  she  had  recovered  power  to  speak. 

17 


258      the  children's  tabernacle. 


"And  there  is  Another  to  whom  my 
child  must  also  confess,"  said  Miss  Clare, 
still  with  her  arm  round  her  niece,  still 
with  Dora's  head  on  her  breast ;  "  there 
is  One  who  is  ready  freely  to  forgive  every 
penitent  who  approaches  the  Mercy-seat 
pleading  the  merits  of  Christ.  "We  have 
no  power  to  remove  one  spot  from  our 
souls  ;"  the  eyes  of  Miss  Clare  chanced  to 
rest,  as  she  spoke,  on  the  embroidery, 
stained  and  destroyed  ;  "  but  there  is  the 
Lord's  promise  to  comfort  the  broken  and 
contrite  heart,  '  Though  your  sins  be  as 
scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow — 
though  they  be  red  as  crimson,  they  shall 
oe  as  wool.' " 

Dora  and  her  aunt  knelt  clown  together 
and  together  prayed,  but  in  silence. 
When  Dora  rose  from  her  knees,  though 


CONFESSION.  259 


she  was  still  very  sad  and  subdued,  there 
was  a  peace  in  her  heart,  a  sense  of  sin 
forgiven,  which  she  had  not  experienced 
for  months. 


XXL 

)ORA    is    late — shockingly  late— on 

her  birthday  too !   I  am  surprised !" 

exclaimed    Elsie,   who   was    in    a 

fidget  of  impatience  to  present  her 

sister  with  a  marker  which  she  had  made. 

"And  Aunt  has  kept  us  twenty — more 

than  twenty  minutes  waiting  for  prayers ! ' 

cried  .Amy;    "I  am  surprised,  for  bhv 

always  is  so  punctual." 

"And  Agnes  has  employed  the  th^e 

mending  my  gloves,  the  most  surprising 

thing  of  all,"  laughed  Lucius. 
(260) 


CONCLUSION.  261 


"  Why  so  surprising  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  Because  a  few  months  ago  Agnes  was 
much  more  given  to  picking  holes  than  to 
sewing  them  up,"  answered  the  boy.  "I 
liked  to  plague  her  and  she  to  tease  me, 
and  I  thought  that  we  should  always  live 
a  kind  of  cat-and-dog  life  together.  But 
now  we're  going  to  be  grand  allies,'* 
added  the  merry  boy,  clapping  Agnes 
upon  the  shoulder;  "by  your  example 
you'll  help  to  mend  my  manners  as  well 
as  my  gloves ! " 

Lucius  spoke  in  his  saucy  playful  way, 
but  "  there's  many  a  true  word  spoken  in 
jest,"  and  he  was  but  expressing  what  all 
the  family  had  observed,  that  there  was 
gradual  but  steady  improvement  in  the 
outer  conduct  of  the  once  peevish  and  self- 
ish girl. 


262      the  children's  tabernacle. 


But  the  sharpest  conflict  of  Agnes  upon 
her  twelfth  birthday  had  been  against  a 
jealous  spirit  within.  From  a  few  words 
dropped  by  her  aunt  on  the  previous 
evening,  Agnes  felt  sure  that  her  mother's 
likeness  would  be  given  as  a  birthday 
present  to  one  of  the  twins,  and  she  had 
not  a  doubt  that  the  younger  would  be 
the  one  thus  favored. 

"It  was  just  the  same  last  birthday," 
thought  Agnes  with  bitterness :  "  I  am 
given  some  makeshift,  Dora  has  what  is 
really  of  value.  It  is  rather  hard  that  she 
should  always  be  preferred  before  her 
elder  sister  because  she  is  called  after  my 
aunt,  whilst  I  am  named  after  my  mother. 
But  oh!  how  wicked  is  this  feeling  of 
jealousy,  how  sinful  these  unkind  and 
covetous  thoughts!    Lord!    help  me  to 


CONCLUSION.  263 


overcome  tliis  secret  temptation,  and  to 
feel  pleasure,  real  pleasure,  when  I  see 
Dora  wearing  that  which  is  so  precious  to 
us  both!" 

As  the  thought,  or  rather  the  prayer, 
passed  through  the  mind  of  Agnes,  the 
door  opened  and  Miss  Clare  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  Dora.  The  lady  held  the  beau- 
tiful brooch  in  her  hand,  and  going  up  to 
the  elder  twin  whom  she  had  not  met 
before  on  that  morning,  with  a  kiss  and  a 
whispered  blessing,  fastened  the  precious 
jewel  on  her  breast. 

That  twenty-fourth  day  of  December 
was  a  day  long  remembered  with  delight 
by  many  a  poor  child  in  Chester,  for  large 
was  the  number  of  scholars  (it  would  be 
scarcely  just  to  call  them  ragged)  who  en- 


264      THE  children's  tabernacle. 


joyed  the  feast  and  the  varied  amuse- 
ments provided  for  them  in  the  large  red 
house  by  their  benefactress,  Miss  Clare. 

Specially  was  the  beautiful,  the  won- 
derful model  which  the  young  gentlefolk 
had  made,  the  theme  of  many  a  conversa- 
tion in  the  low  courts  and  lanes  from 
which  the  guests  had  been  gathered. 
"Worn,  weary  mothers,  at  their  sewing  or 
washing,  paused,  needle  in  hand,  or  with 
arms  whitened  with  soap-suds,  to  hear  of 
the  golden  pillars,  and  silver  loops,  and 
above  all  of  the  splendid  embroidery  that 
adorned  the  inner  part  of  the  model,  that 
part  which,  as  Miss  Clare  had  told  them, 
was  called  the  Holy  of  holies. 

"And  the  young  ladies  looked  just  as 
pleased  and  happy  as  we,"  a  bare-footed 
little   urchin   observed   at  the   end  of  a 


CONCLUSION.  265 


lively  narration  of  all  the  wonders  that  he 
had  seen ;  "  all  but  one,  and  her  eyes 
were  red  as  if  she'd  been  a-crying, — what 
could  she  have  had  to  make  her  cry? 
But  she  smiled,  too,  when  we  clapped  our 
hands  and  shouted  for  joy  as  we  saw  the 
beautiful  tent ! " 

What  delighted  their  eyes,  and  pleased 
their  fancy,  was  what  naturally  made  the 
greatest  impression  on  the  ragged  scholars 
who  had  stared  in  wondering  admiration 
on  the  model  of  the  Tabernacle  of  Israel. 
But  the  concluding  words  of  a  little 
address  made  by  Miss  Clare  to  the  chil- 
dren were  what  sank  deepest  into  the 
memories  and  hearts  of  her  twin  nieces. 

"I  have  described  to  you,  my  dear 
young  pupils,  the  various  parts  of  this 
model,"   she   said :    "  let  me  now  briefly 


266      the  children's  tabernacle. 


point  out  a  few  lessons  which  we  should 
all  carry  away.     In  Israel's  Tabernacle 
we  see  a  type  of  every  Christian,  in  whose 
body,  as  St.  Paul  tells  us,  God's  Holy 
Spirit  deigns  to  dwell  (1  Cor.  iii.  16).     In 
that  living  Tabernacle,  the  lowly  heart  is 
the  Holy  of  holies,  because  it  is  cleansed 
by  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  in  it  the  Com- 
mandments of  God  are  treasured,  and  the 
light  of  His  love  shines  within.     But  as 
the  Tabernacle  was  not  intended  to  last 
forever,  but  to  give  place  to  a  far  more 
splendid    building,   so  is  it    with    these 
bodies  of   ours.    As   Solomon's  masjnifi- 
cent  temple,  glorious  and  fair,  and  firm  on 
its  deep    foundation,  far    surpassed  the 
Tabernacle  made  to  be  moved  from  place 
to  place ;   so  will  the  glorified  bodies  of 
saiuts,   when   they  are  raised  from  their 


CONCLUSION.  267 


graves,  surpass  these  weak,  mortal  bodies 
in  which  they  served  their  Lord  upon 
earth.  For  what  saith  the  Apostle  St. 
Piiul : — '  We  know  that  if  our  earthly 

HOUSE  OF  THIS  TABERNACLE  WERE  DISSOLVED, 
WE  HAVE  A  BUILDING  OF  GOD,  A  HOUSE 
NOT    MADE    WITH    HANDS,    ETERNAL    LN    THF 

heavens.'  "     (2  Cor.  V.  1.) 


SHOET  STOEIES 

BY    THE    SAME     AUTHOR. 


THE    BEAR. 


E  is  just  like  a  bear !"  that  is  a  very 
common  expression  when  we  talk 
of  some  ill-tempered  man  or  boj, 
who  takes  a  pleasure  in  saying 
rude  things,  and  who  seems  bent  upon 
making  every  one  near  him  as  uncomfort- 
able as  he  can. 

But  we  may  be  unjust  even  to  bears. 
Could  you  have  gone  to  wintry  Greenland, 
and  seen  Mrs.  Bruin  amidst  her  family  of 
little   white   cubs,   each    scarcely   bigger 

than  a  rabbit,  you  would  have  agreed  that 

(271) 


272  SHOET  STOItfES. 


a  bear  can  be  a  kind  and  tender  mother, 
and  provide  for  her  four-footed  babies  a 
snug  and  comfortable  home. 

You  would,  indeed,  have  had  some 
difficulty  in  finding  Bear  Hall,  or  Bear 
Hole,  as  we  rather  should  call  it.  Per- 
haps in  wandering  over  the  dreary  snow- 
covered  plains  of  Greenland,  you  might 
have  come  upon  a  little  hole  in  the  snow, 
edged  with  hoar-frost,  without  ever  guess- 
ing that  the  hole  was  formed  by  the  warm 
breath  of  an  Arctic  bear,  or  that  Mrs. 
Bruin  and  her  promising  family  were 
living  in  a  burrow  beneath  you.*  How 
wonderfully  does  Instinct  teach  this  rough, 
strange-looking  creature  to  provide  for 
her  cubs!  The  mother-bear  scrapes  and 
burrows  under  the  snow,  till  she  has 
*  See  "Homes  without  Hands." 


THE  BEAK.  273 


formed  a  small  but  snug  home,  where  she 
dwells  with  her  baby-bears  during  the 
sharpest  cold  of  an  Arctic  winter.  So 
wonderfully  has  Providence  cared  for  the 
comfort  even  of  wild  beasts,  that  the 
mother  needs  no  food  for  three  months ! 
She  is  so  fat  when  she  settles  down  in  her 
under-snow  home,  that  her  own  plump- 
ness serves  her  instead  of  breakfast,  dinner, 
and  supper;  so  that  when  at  last  she 
comes  out  to  break  her  long  fast,  she  is 
not  starved,  but  has  merely  grown  thin, 
I  need  hardly  remind  my  reader  that  the 
Arctic  bear  is  provided  by  Nature  with  a 
thick,  warm,  close-fitting  coat  of  white  fur ; 
and  the  snow  itself,  strange  as  it  seems  to 
say  so,  serves  as  a  blanket  to  keep  the 
piercing  air  from  her  narrow  den. 

Yes,  Mrs.  Bruin  was  a  happy  mother 
18 


274  SHORT  STORIES. 


though  her  cell  was  small  to  hold  her  and 
her  children,  and  the  cold  above  was  so 
terrible  that  water  froze  in  the  dwellings 
of  men  even  in  a  room  with  a  fire.  Mrs 
Bruin  found  enough  of  amusement  in 
licking  her  cubs,  which  was  her  fashion  of 
washing,  combing,  and  dressing,  and  mak- 
ing them  look  like  respectable  bears.  She 
let  them  know  that  she  loved  them  dearly 
in  that  kind  of  language  which  little  ones, 
whether  they  be  babies  or  bear-cubs,  so 
soon  understand. 

But  when  March  came,  Mrs.  Bruin  be- 
gan to  grow  hungry,  and  think  that  it  was 
full  time  to  scramble  out  of  her  under- 
snow  den,  and  look  out  for  some  fish,  or  a 
fat  young  seal,  to  eat  for  her  breakfast. 
The  weather  was  still  most  fearfully  cold, 
and  the  red  sun  seemed  to  have  no  power 


THE  BEAR.  275 


at  all,  save  to  light  up  an  endless  waste  of 
snow,  in  which  not  a  tree  was  to  be  seen 
save  here  and  there  a  stunted  fir,  half 
crusted  over  with  ice. 

Safe,  however,  and  pretty  warm  in  their 
shaggy  furs,  over  the  dreary  wilds  walked 
Mrs.  Bruin,  and  the  young  bears  trotted 
at  her  heels.  They  went  along  for  some 
time,  when  they  came  to  a  round  swelling 
in  the  snow ;  at  least  so  a  little  hut  ap- 
peared to  the  eyes  of  a  bear.  Indeed, 
had  our  own  eyes  looked  on  that  snow- 
covered  hillock,  we  should  scarcely  at  first 
have  guessed  that  it  was  a  human  dwelling. 

Perhaps  some  scent  of  food  came  up 
from  the  chimney-hole,  which  made  Mrs. 
Bruin  think  about  breakfast,  for  she  went 
close  up  to  the  hut,  then  trotted  around 
it — her  rough  white  nose  in  the  air.      She 


276  SHORT  STORIES. 


then  littered  a  low  short  growl,  which 
made  her  cubs  scramble  up  to  her  side. 

Oh,  with  what  terror  the  sound  of  that 
growl  filled  the  heart  of  poor  Aneekah, 
the  Esquimaux  woman,  who  was  with  her 
little  children  crouching  together  for 
warmth  in  that  hut ! 

"  Did  you  hear  that  noise  ?"  exclaimed 
Aleekan,  the  eldest  boy,  stopping  suddenly 
in  the  midst  of  a  tale  which  he  had  been 
teiliog. 

" There's  a  bear  outside!"  cried  all  the 
younger  children  at  once. 

Aneekah  rose,  and  hastily  strengthened 
the  fastenings  of  her  rude  door  with  a 
thick  piece  of  rope,  while  her  children 
breathlessly  listened  to  catch  again  the 
sound  which  had  filled  them  with  fear. 

"  The   bear   is   climbing   up   outside !" 


THE  BEAK.  277 


cried  little  Yraga,  clinging  in  terror  to  her 
mother.  "  I  can  hear  the  scraping  of  its 
claws !" 

There  was  an  anxious  pause  for  several 
minutes,  all  listening  too  intently  to  break 
the  silence  by  even  a  word.  Then,  to  the 
great  alarm  of  the  Esquimaux,  the  white 
head  of  an  Arctic  bear  could  be  plainly 
seen,  looking  down  upon  them  from  above. 
The  animal  had,  after  clainberiDg  up  to  the 
top  of  the  hut,  enlarged  the  hole  which 
had  been  left  in  the  roof  to  let  out  the 
smoke. 

"  "We're  lost !"  exclaimed  Aneekah. 

"  O  mother  let  us  pray !  Will  not  God 
help  us  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  children.* 

The  prayer  could  have  been  but  a  very 

*  This  incident  ot  the  intrusion  of  the  boar,  and 
the  exclamation  of  the  child,  has  been  given  as  a 
fact. 


278  SHORT  STORIES. 


short  one,  but  the  presence  of  mind  which 
the  mother  showed  may  have  been  given 
as  the  instant  answer  to  it.  Aneekah 
caught  up  a  piece  of  moss,  stuck  it  on  a 
stick,  set  it  on  fire,  and  held  the  blazing 
mass  as  close  as  she  could  to  the  nose  of 
the  bear. 

Now  fire  was  a  new  thing  to  Mrs.  Bruin, 
and  so  was  smoke ;  and  if  the  bear  had 
frightened  the  Esquimaux,  the  Esquimaux 
now  frightened  the  bear.  With  a  snort 
and  a  shake  of  her  shaggy  fur,  the  animal 
drew  back  her  head,  and,  to  the  surprise 
and  delight  of  the  trembling  family, 
they  soon  heard  their  unwelcome  visitor 
scrambling  down  faster  than  she  had 
clambered  up.  Mrs.  Bruin  trotted  off  to 
seek  her  breakfast  elsewhere  ;  let  us  hope 
that  she  and  her  cubs  found  a  fine  supply 


THE  BEAR.  279 


of  fisli  frozen  in  a  cleft  in  some  iceberg 
floating  away  in  the  sea.  At  any  rate 
they  never  again  were  seen  near  the  Esqui- 
maux home. 

Do  you  wonder  how  the  poor  Esquimaux 
child  had  learned  the  value  of  prayer? 
Would  any  one  go  to  the  dreary  wilds  of 
Greenland  to  carry  the  blessed  gospel  to 
the  natives  of  that  desolate  shore  ? 

Yes,  even  to  "Greenland's  icy  moun- 
tains "  have  missionaries  gone  from  bright- 
er, happier  lands.  There  are  pastors 
now  laboring  amongst  the  poor  Esqui- 
maux, for  they  know  that  the  soul  of  each 
savage  is  precious.  The  light  of  the 
gospel  is  shining  now  in  Esquimaux  homes, 
and,  amidst  all  their  hardships,  sufferings, 
and  dangers,  Esquimaux  have  learned  to 
show  pious  trust  when  in  peril,  and  thank- 


280 


SHORT   STORIES. 


fulness  after  deliverance.  It  is  from  tne 
pen  of  a  missionary  that  we  have  learned 
the  story  which  I  have  just  related  of  the 
Esquimaux  woman  and  the  white  bear. 


THE  TIGER-CUB. 


iEALLT,  Captain  Guise,  you  need 
trouble  yourself  no  more  in  the 
matter ;  I  am  quite  able  to  take 
care  of  myself!"  cried  young  Cor- 
net Stanley,  with  a  little  impatience  in  his 
tone. 

The  speaker  was  a  blue-eyed  lad,  whose 
fresh  complexion  showed  that  he  had  not 
been  long  in  the  burning  climate  of  India. 
Cornet  Stanley  had  indeed  but  lately  left 
an  English  home,  for  he  was  little  more 

than   sixteen   years   of  age.     With    very 

'281) 


282  SHORT  STORIES. 


anxious  feelings,  and  many  tears,  had  Mrs. 
Stanley  parted  with  her  rosy-cheeked  Nor- 
man. "  He  is  so  very  young,"  as  she 
said,  "  to  meet  all  the  trials  and  tempta- 
tions of  an  officer's  life  in  India  !" 

Mrs.  Stanley's  great  comfort  was  that 
her  Norman  would  have  a  tried  and  steady 
friend  in  her  cousin,  Captain  Guise,  who 
would,  she  felt  sure,  act  a  father's  part  to 
her  light-hearted  boy.  Youog  Stanley 
was  appointed  to  the  same  regiment  as 
that  of  the  captain ;  and  almost  as  soon 
as  the  cornet  had  landed  in  India,  he  pro- 
ceeded up  country  to  join  it.  The  season 
of  the  year  was  that  which  is  in  India 
called  the  cold  weather,  when  many  Euro- 
peans live  in  tents,  moving  from  place  to 
place,  that  they  may  amuse  themselves 
with    hunting    and    shooting.     Norman 


THE  TIGER-CUB.  283 


Stanley,  who  had  never  before  chased  any- 
thing larger  than  a  rabbit,  was  delighted 
to  make  one  of  a  party  with  two  of  his 
brother  officers,  and  enjoy  with  them  for  a 
while  a  wild,  free  life  in  the  jungle.  There 
would  have  been  no  harm  at  all  in  this, 
had  Norman's  new  companions  been  sober 
and  steady  young  men ;  but  Dugsley  and 
Danes  were  noted  as  the  two  wildest  offi- 
cers in  the  regiment. 

Captain  Guise  was  also  out  in  camp, 
and  his  tent  was  pitched  not  very  far  from 
that  of  his  young  friend  Norman.  The 
captain  took  a  warm  interest  in  young 
Stanley,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  his  parents, 
but  also  for  his  own ;  for  the  bright  rosy 
face  and  frank  manner  of  the  lad  inclined 
all  who  met  him  to  feel  kindly  towards 
him.     It  was  with  no  small  regret  that 


284  SHORT  STORIES. 


Captain  Guise,  on  the  very  first  evening 
when  the  officers  all  dined  together,  saw 
that  young  face  flushed  not  with  health, 
but  with  wine,  and  that  frank  manner  be- 
come more  boisterous  than  it  had  been 
earlier  in  the  day.  Not  that  Norman 
Stanley  could  have  been  called  drunk, 
but  he  had  taken  a  little  more  wine  than 
was  good  for  him  to  take ;  and  his  friend 
knew  but  too  well  in  what  such  a  begin- 
ning of  life  in  India  was  likely  to  end. 

The  captain  was  a  good  and  sensible 
man,  and  he  could  not  see  his  young  rela- 
tive led  into  folly  and  sin  without  warning 
him  of  the  danger  into  which  he  was 
heedlessly  running.  Captain  Guise,  on  the 
following  day,  therefore,  visited  Norman 
in  his  tent,  and  tried  to  put  him  on  his 
guard  against  too  close  a  friendship  with 


THE  TIGER-CUB.  285 


Dugsley  and  Danes,  and  to  show  him  the 
peril  of  being  drawn  by  little  and  little 
into  intemperate  habits. 

Norman  Stanley,  who  thought  himself 
quite  a  man  because  he  could  wear  a  uni- 
form and  give  commands  to  gray-bearded 
soldiers,  was  a  little  hurt  at  any  one's 
thinking  of  troubling  him  with  advice. 
Captain  Guise  had,  however,  spoken  so 
kindly  that  the  lad  could  not  take  real 
offence  at  his  words,  but  only  tried  to  show 
his  friend  that  his  warning  was  not  at  all 
needed. 

"  I  shall  never  disgrace  myself  by  be- 
coming a  drunkard,  you  may  be  certain  of 
that,"  said  the  youth ;  "  no  one  despises 
a  sot  more  than  I  do,  and  I  shall  never  be 
one.  As  for  taking  an  extra  glass  of  cham- 
pagne after  a  long  day's  shooting,  that  is 


286  SHOBT  STORIES. 


quite  a  different  thing,  and  nobody  can 
object  to  it." 

"  But  the  extra  glass,  Norman,  is  often 
like  the  thin  point  of  the  wedge,"  said  the 
captain ;  "  it  is  followed  by  another  and 
another,  till  a  ruinous  habit  may  be  form- 
ed." 

"  I  tell  you  that  I  shall  never  get  into 
habits  of  drinking,"  interrupted  young 
Stanley.  Then,  as  he  took  up  his  gun  to 
go  out  shooting,  the  cornet  uttered  the 
words  with  which  this  little  story  com- 
mences. 

Captain  Guise  did  not  feel  satisfied. 
He  saw  that  his  young  friend  was  relying 
on  the  strength  of  his  own  resolutions, 
and  in  so  doing  was  leaning  on  a  reed. 
He  could  not,  however,  say  anything  more 
just  then,  and  Norman  Stanley  started  a 


THE  TIGER-CUB.  287 


new  subject  to  give  a  turn  to  the  conver- 
sation. 

"By-the-by,  Captain  Guise,  I've  not 
shown  you  the  prize  which  I  captured 
yesterday.  As  Dugsley  and  I  were  beat- 
ing about  in  the  jungle,  what  should  we 
light  upon  but  a  tiger-cub — a  real  little 
beauty,  pretty  and  playful  as  a  young 
kitten." 

"  What  did  you  make  of  it  ?"  asked  the 
captain. 

V  Oh,  I've  tethered  it  to  the  tree  yon- 
der," said  Norman,  pointing  to  one  not  a 
hundred  yards  distant.  "  By  good  luck  I 
had  a  dog's  chain  and  collar  which  fitted 
the  little  creature  exactly.  I  mean  to  try 
if  I  can't  rear  it,  and  keep  a  tiger-cub  as  a 
pet." 

"  A  tiger-cub  is  rather  a  dangerous  pet, 


288  SHORT  STORIES. 


I  should  say,"  observed  Captain  Guise, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  not  a  bit  of  it !"  cried  Norman, 
lightly  ;  "  the  little  brute  has  no  fangs  to 
bite  with,  and  if  it  had,  the  chain  is  quite 
strong  enough  to  " — 

The  sentence  was  never  finished,  for 
while  the  last  word  was  yet  on  the  smiling 
lips  of  the  youth,  the  sudden  sound  of  a 
savage  roar  from  a  neighboring  thicket 
made  him  start,  turn  pale,  and  grasp  his 
gun  more  firmly.  Forth  from  the  shade 
of  the  bushes  sprang  a  large  tigress.  In  a 
minute,  with  a  few  bounds,  she  had  cleared 
the  space  between  herself  and  her  cub ! 
Snap  went  the  chain,  as  the  strong  wild 
beast  caught  up  her  little  one  in  her 
mouth  ;  and  before  either  Norman  or  the 
captain  (who   had   snatched  up   a  second 


THE  TIGER-CUB.  239 


gun)  had  time  to  take  aim,  the  tigres3  was 
off  again,  bearing  away  her  rescued  cub 
to  the  jungle ! 

"  That  was  a  sight  worth  seeing !"  ex- 
claimed Captain  Guise ;  "  I  never  beheld 
a  more  splendid  creature  in  all  my  life !" 

Norman,  who  was  very  young,  and  quite 
unaccustomed  to  having  a  tiger  so  near 
him  with  no  iron  cage  between  them, 
looked  as  though  he  had  not  enjoyed  the 
sight  at  all.  "  I  should  not  care  to  meet 
that  splendid  creature  alone  in  the  jungle," 
he  observed.  "  Did  you  not  notice  how 
the  iron  chain  snapped  like  a  thread  at 
the  jerk  which  she  gave  it?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Captain  Guise,  as  he 
turned  back  into  the  tent ;  "  what  will  hold 
in  the  cub,  is  as  a  spider's  web  to  the  full- 
grown  wild  beast,     Tou  had,  as  I  told  you. 

19 


290  SHORT  STORIES. 


a  dangerous  pet,  Norman  Stanley.  Ton 
might  play  for  a  while  with  the  young  crea- 
ture, but  claws  will  lengthen  and  fangs 
will  grow.  And,"  the  captain  added  more 
gravely,  "this  is  like  some  other  things 
which  are  at  first  but  a  source  of  amuse- 
ment, but  which  are  too  likely  to  become 
at  last  a  source  of  destruction." 

Norman  Stanley's  cheek  reddened,  for 
he  felt  that  it  was  not  merely  of  a  tiger's 
cub  that  his  friend  was  speaking.  Evil 
habits,  which  at  first  seem  so  weak  that 
we  believe  that  we  can  hold  them  in  by  a 
mere  effort  of  will,  grow  fearfully  strong  by 
indulgence.  Many  a  wretched  drunkard 
has  begun  by  what  he  called  merely  a 
little  harmless  mirth,  but  has  found  at  last 
that  he  had  been  fostering  something 
more  dangerous  still  then  a  tiger's  cub. 


THE  TIGER-CUB. 


291 


His  good  resolutions  have  snapped ;  lie 
has  been  carried  away  by  a  terrible  force 
with  which  he  has  not  had  the  strength  to 
grapple ;  and  so  has  proved  the  truth  of 
the  captain's  words,  that  what  is  at  first 
but  a  source  of  amusement  may  be  at  last 
a  source  of  destruction. 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANY. 


)0,  neighbor,  you've  not  one  too 
many,"  observed  Bridget  Macbride, 
as  she  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the 
cottage  of  Janet  Maclean,  knitting 
coarse  gray  socks  as  fast  as  her  fingers 
could  go. 

"  It's  easy  enough  for  you  to  say  so," 
replied  Janet,  who  was  engaged  in  ironing 
out  a  shirt,  and  who  seemed  to  be  too 
busy  even  to  look  up  as  she  spoke — "  it's 
easy  enough  for  you  to  say  so,  Bridget 

Macbride.     You've  never  had  but    three 

(292) 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANY.  293 


bairns  [children]  in  your  life,  and  your 
husband  he  gets  good  wages.  You'd  sing 
to  a  different  tune,  I  take  it,  if  you'd  nine 
bairns,  as  I  ha'e,  the  oldest  not  twelve 
years  old — nine  to  feed,  to  clothe,  and  to 
house,  and  to  toil  and  moil  for,  and  your 
goodman  getting  but  seven  shillings 
a-week,  though  he's  after  the  sheep  from 
morning  till  night !"  Mrs.  Maclean  had 
been  getting  quite  red  in  the  face  as  she 
spoke,  but  that  might  have  been  from 
stooping  over  her  ironing  work. 

"  Still  children  are  blessings, — at  least, 
I  always  thought  mine  so,"  observed 
Bridget  Macbride. 

w  Blessings ;  yes,  to  be  sure !"  cried 
Janet ;  "  I  thought  so  too  till  there  were 
so  many  of  them  that  we  had  to  pack  in 
the    cottage  like  herrings  in   a  barrel." 


294  SHOBT  STORIES. 


Janet  was  now  ironing  out  a  sleeve,  and 
required  to  go  rather  more  gently  on  with 
her  work.  "  I'm  sure  nae  folk  welcomed 
little  ones  more  than  Tarn  and  I  did  the 
four  first  wee  bairns,  though  many  a 
broken  night's  rest  we  had  wi'  poor  Jeanie, 
— and  I  shall  never  forget  the  time  when 
the  measles  was  in  our  cottage,  and  every 
ane  o'  the  four  had  it !  Yes,"  the  mother 
went  on,  "  four  we  could  manage  pretty 
well,  with  a  wee  bit  o'  pinching  and  scrap- 
ing ;  but  then  came  twins  ;  and  then  little 
Davie ;  and  afore  he  could  toddle  alane, 
twins  again !"  and  Janet  banged  down  her 
iron  on  its  stand,  as  if  two  sets  of  twins 
were  too  much  for  the  patience  of  any 
parent  to  endure. 

"You  must  have  a  struggle  to  keep 
them  all,"  observed  Bridget  Macbride. 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANf.  295 


"Struggle!  I  should  say  so!"  cried 
Janefc,  looking  more  flushed  and  angry 
than  ever.  "  We  never  could  have  got  on 
at  all,  had  I  not  taken  in  washing  and 
ironing ;  and  it's  no  such  easy  matter,  I 
can  tell  you,  to  wash  and  iron  fine  things 
for  the  gentry  with  twin-babies  a-wanting 
you  to  look  after  tliem  every  hour  in  the 
twenty-four !"  It  seemed  as  if  the  babies 
had  heard  themselves  mentioned,  for  from 
the  rude  cradle  by  the  fire  came  a  squall, 
first  from  one  child,  and  then  from  both, 
and  poor  Janet  was  several  minutes  before 
she  could  get  either  of  them  quiet  again. 

"You've  a  busy  life  of  it  indeed,"  ob- 
served Bridget,  as  soon  as  the  weary 
mother  was  able  once  more  to  take  up  her 
iron. 

"  'Deed  you  may  say  so,"  replied  Janet 


296  SHORT  STORIES. 


sharply,  plying  her  iron  faster,  as  if  to 
make  up  for  lost  time.  "  And  for  all  my 
working,  and  Tarn's,  we  can  scarce  get 
enough  of  bread  or  porridge  to  fill  nine 
hungry  mouths ;  and  as  for  meat,  we  don't 
see  it  for  weeks  and  weeks — not  so  much 
as  a  slice  of  bacon!  Then  there's  the 
schooling  of  the  twa  eldest  bairns  to  be 
paid  for,  as  Tarn  and  I  won't  ha'e  them 
grow  up  like  heathen  savages ;  and  we'll 
hae  them  gae  decent  too,  not  in  rags  and 
barefooted,  like  beggars.  And  I  should 
like  to  know  " — Janet  was  ironing  fast,  but 
calking  faster — "  I  should  like  to  know  how 
shoon  [shoes]  and  sarks  [shirts],  and  a 
plaidie  for  this  ane,  and  a  bonnet  for 
anither,  and  breakfasts  o'  bannocks,  and 
porridge  for  supper,  are  a:  to  come  out  o1 
that  wash-tub  ?" 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANY.  297 


"  And  yet,"  observed  Bridget  Macbride, 
u  hard  as  you  have  to  work  for  your  chil- 
dren, I  don't  believe  that  you  would  will- 
ingly part  with  one  of  them,  neighbor." 

Even  as  she  spoke,  there  was  a  distress- 
ful cry  of  "Mither!  mither!"  as  Janet's 
two  eldest  children  burst  suddenly  into  the 
cottage,  looking  unhappy  and  frightened. 

"What  ails  the  bairns?"  asked  Janet 
anxiously,  turning  round  at  the  cry. 

"O  mither,  we've  lost  wee  Davie;  we 
can't  find  him  nowhere  in  the  wood,  and 
we  be  afeard  as  he  may  have  fallen  over 
the  cliff." 

"Davie!  my  bairn!  my  darling!"  ex- 
claimed poor  Janet,  forgetting  in  a  moment 
all  her  toils  and  troubles  in  one  terrible 
fear.  Down  went  the  iron  on  the  table, 
and  without  waiting  to  put  on  bonnet  or 


298  SHORT  STORIES. 


shawl,  the  fond  mother  rushed  out  of  the 
cottage,  to  go  and  search  for  her  child. 
Bridget  had  spoken  the  truth ;  Janet  might 
complain  of  the  trouble  brought  by  a  large 
family,  but  she  could  not  bear  to  part  with 
one  out  of  her  flock.  If  Davie  had  been 
the  only  child  of  a  rich  mother,  instead  of 
the  seventh  child  of  a  poor  one,  he  could 
not  have  been  sought  with  more  eager 
anxiety,  more  tender,  self-forgetting  love. 

Followed  by  several  of  her  children,  but 
outstripping  them  all  in  her  haste,  Janet 
was  soon  at  the  edge  of  the  wood. 
"Davie!  Davie!  my  bairn!  my  bairn!" 
resounded  through  the  forest.  The 
mother's  cry  was  answered  by  a  distant 
whoop  and  halloo ; — Janet  knew  the  voice 
of  her  husband,  and  her  heart  took  courage 
from    the    sound.      But    her    hope    was 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANY.  299 


changed  into  delight,  when  she  caught  a 
glimpse  between  the  trees  of  the  shepherd 
coming  towards  her,  with  her  little  yellow- 
haired  laddie  Davie  perched  on  his  broac1 
shoulders,  grasping  with  one  hand  his 
father's  rough  locks,  and  with  the  other  a 
bannock,  which  he  was  nibbling  at  as  he 
rode. 

"The  Lord  be  praised!"  cried  poor 
Janet,  and  rushing  forward  she  caught  the 
child  from  her  husband,  pressed  Davie 
closely  to  her  heart,  and  burst  into  a  flood 
of  grateful  tears. 

"  You  must  look  a  bit  better  after  your 
stray  lamb,  Janet,"  said  Tarn  with  a  good- 
humored  smile.  "  I  was  just  crossing  the 
wood  when  Trusty  set  up  a  barking  which 
made  me  go  out  o'  my  way  just  to  see  if 
he  had  found  a  rabbit,  or  started  a  black- 


300  SHORT  STORIES. 


cock.  There  was  our  wean  [child]  sitting 
much  at  his  ease,  munching  a  bannock,  as 
contented  and  happy  as  if  he'd  been  a 
duke  eating  venison  out  of  a  golden  dish. 
But  you  mustna  let  the  wee  bairn  wander 
about  by  himseF,  for  if  he'd  gaen  over  the 
cliff,  we'd  never  hae  heard  the  voice  o'  our 
lammie  again.1' 

Very  joyful  and  very  thankful  was  Janet 
Maclean,  as,  with  her  boy  in  her  arms,  she 
returned  to  her  cottage.  Bridget  had  re- 
mained there  to  take  care  of  the  twins 
during  the  absence  of  their  mother.  Mrs. 
Macbride  received  her  neighbor  with  a 
smile,  and  the  words,  "  Didna  I  say,  Janet, 
that  ye'd  not  one  too  many,  nor  would 
willingly  part  wi'  a  single  bairn  out  o'  your 
nine  r 

"  The  Lord  forgie  my  thankless  heart !rt 


NOT  ONE  TOO  MANY.  301 


said  poor  Janet,  and  she  fondly  kissed  her 
boy.  "  We  ne'er  are  grateful  enough  for 
our  blessings  until  we  are  like  to  lose 
them."  Then  putting  the  little  child  down 
on  the  brick  floor,  with  fresh  courage  an  d 
industry  the  mother  returned  to .  her  iron- 
ing again. 

May  we  not  hope  that  all  Janet's  toil 
and  hard  work  for  her  children  had  one 
day  a  rich  reward?  May  we  not  hope 
that  not  one  out  of  the  nine,  when  old 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  labor  for 
her  who  had  labored  so  hard  for  them, 
but  did  his  best  to  repay  her  care  and  her 
love  ?  How  large  is  a  parent's  heart,  that 
opens  wide  and  wider  to  take  in  all  the 
children  of  her  family,  however  numerous 
those  children  may  be !  Though  eacii 
new  babe  adds  to  poor  parents'  toils,  and 


302  SHOET  STORIES. 


takes  from  their  comforts,  still  the  kind 
father  and  the  fond  mother,  as  they  look 
round  their  home  circle  of  rosy  faces,  can 
not  only  say  but  feel,  "  There  is  not  one 
too  many." 


THE  IRON  RING. 


)HANG  WANG  was  a  Chinaman, 
and  was  reputed  to  be  one  of  the 
shrewdest  dealers  in  the  Flowery 
Land.  If  making  money  fast  be 
the  test  of  cleverness,  there  was  not  a  mer- 
chant in  the  province'  of  Kwang  Tung  who 
had  earned  a  better  right  to  be  called 
clever.  Who  owned  so  many  fields  of  the 
tea-plant,  who  shipped  so  many  bales  of 
its  leaves  to  the  little  island  in  the  west, 
as  did  Chang  Wang  ?     It  was  whispered, 

indeed,  that  many  of  the  bales  contained 

(303) 


304  SHOET  STORIES. 


green  tea  made  by  chopping  up  spoilt 
black  tea-leaves,  and  coloring  them  with 
copper — a  process  likely  to  turn  them  into 
a  mild  kind  of  poison ;  but  if  the  unwhole- 
some trash  found  purchasers,  Chang  Wang 
never  troubled  himself  with  the  thought 
whether  any  one  might  suffer  in  health 
from  drinking  his  tea.  So  long  as  the 
dealer  made  money,  he  was  content ;  and 
plenty  of  money  he  made. 

But  knowing  how  to  make  money  is 
quite  a  different  thing  from  knowing  how 
to  enjoy  it.  With  all  his  ill-gotten  gains, 
Chang  Wang  was  a  miserable  man,  for  he 
had  no  heart  to  spend  his  silver  pieces, 
even  on  his  own  comfort.  The  rich  dealer 
lived  in  a  hut  which  one  of  his  own  laborers 
might  have  despised ;  he  dressed  as  a  poor 
Tartar  shepherd  might  have  dressed  when 


THE  IRON  RING.  305 


driving  his  flock.  Chang  "Wang  grudged 
himself  even  a  hat  to  keep  off  the  rajs  of 
the  sun.  Men  laughed,  and  said  that  he 
would  have  cut  off  his  own  pigtail  of  plaited 
hair,  if  he  could  have  sold  it  for  the  price 
of  a  dinner !  Chang  Wang  was,  in  fact,  a 
miser,  and  was  rather  proud  than  ashamed 
of  the  hateful  vice  of  avarice. 

Chang  Wang  had  to  make  a  journey  to 
Macao,  down  the  great  river  Yang-se- 
kiang,  for  purposes  of  trade.  The  ques- 
tion with  the  Chinaman  now  was  in  what 
way  he  should  travel. 

"  Shall  I  hire  a  palanquin  ?"  thought 
Chang  Wang,  stroking  his  thin  mous- 
taches ;  "  no,  a  palanquin  would  cost  too 
much  money.  Shall  I  take  my  passage 
in  a  trading  vessel?"     The  rich  trader 

shook   his  head,  and  the  pigtail  behind 

20 


306  SHOKT  STOKIES. 


it, — such  a  passage  would  have  to  be  paid 
for. 

"I  know  what  I'll  do,"  said  the  miser 
to  himself ;  "  I'll  ask  my  uncle  Fing  Fang 
to  take  me  in  his  fishing-boat  down  the 
great  river.  It  is  true  that  it  will  make 
my  journey  a  long  one,  but  then  I  shall 
make  it  for  nothing.  I'll  go  to  the  fisher- 
man Fing  Fang,  and  settle  the  matter  at 


once." 


The  business  was  soon  arranged,  for 
Fing  Fang  would  not  refuse  his  rich 
nephew  a  seat  in  his  boat.  But  he,  like 
every  one  else,  was  disgusted  at  Chang 
"Wang's  meanness;  and  as  soon  as  the 
dealer  had  left  his  hovel,  thus  spoke  Fing 
Fang  to  his  sons,  Ko  and  Jung : 

"  Here's  a  fellow  who  has  scraped  up 
money  enough  to  build  a  second  porcelain 


THE  IRON  RING.  307 


tower,  and  he  comes  here  to  beg  a  free 
passage  in  a  fishing-boat  from  an  uncle 
whom  he  has  never  so  much  as  asked  to 
share  a  dish  of  his  birds'-nests  soup."  * 

"  Birds'-nests  soup,  indeed !"  exclaimed 
Ko ;  "  why,  Chang  Wang  never  indulges 
in  luxuries  such  as  that.  If  dogs'  flesh  * 
were  not  so  cheap,  he'd  grudge  himself 
the  paw  of  a  roasted  puppy." 

"  And  what  will  Chang  Wang  make  of 
all  his  money  at  last  ?"  said  Eing  Fang 
more  gravely ;  "  he  cannot  carry  it  away 
with  him  when  he  dies." 

"  Oh,  he's  gathering  it  up  for  some  one 
who  will  know  how  to  spend  it,"  laughed 
Jung.  "Chang  Wang  is  merely  fishing 
for  others;  what  he  gathers,  they  will 
enjoy." 

*  Noted  Chinese  dishes. 


308  SHORT  STORIES. 


It  was  a  bright,  pleasant  day  when 
Chang  Wang  stepped  into  the  boat  of  his 
ancle,  to  drop  slowly  down  the  great 
Yang-se-kiang.  Many  a  civil  word  he 
said  to  Fing  Fang  and  his  sons,  for  civil 
words  cost  nothiug.  Chang  Wang  sat  in 
the  boat  twisting  the  ends  of  his  long 
moustaches,  and  thinking  how  much 
money  each  row  of  plants  in  his  tea-fields 
might  bring  him.  Presently,  having  fin- 
ished his  calculations,  the  miser  turned  to 
watch  his  relations,  who  were  pursuing 
their  fishing  occupation  in  the  way  pe- 
culiar to  China.  Instead  of  rods,  lines,  or 
nets,  the  Ping  Fang  family  was  provided 
with  trained  cormorants,  which  are  a  kind 
of  bird  with  a  long  neck,  large  appetite, 
and  a  particular  fancy  for  fish. 

It  was  curious  to  watch  a  bird  diving 


THE  IRON  RING.  309 


down  in  the  sunny  water,  and  then 
suddenly  come  up  again  with  a  struggling 
fish  in  his  bill.  The  fish  was,  however, 
always  taken  away  from  the  cormorant, 
and  thrown  by  one  of  the  Fing  Fangs  into 
a  well  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"  Cousin  Ko,"  said  the  miser,  leaning 
forward  to  speak,  "how  is  it  that  your 
clever  cormorants  never  devour  the  fish 
they  catch  ?" 

"  Cousin  Chang  "Wang,"  replied  the 
young  man,  "  dost  thou  not  see  that  each 
bird  has  an  iron  ring  round  his  neck,  so 
that  he  cannot  swallow  ?  He  only  fishes 
for  others." 

"Methinks  the  cormorant  has  a  hard 
life   of  it,"  observed  the  miser,  smiling. 

"He  must  wish  his  iron  ring  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Yang-se-kiang." 


310  SHORT  STORIES. 


Fing  Fang,  who  had  just  let  loose  two 
young  cormorants  from  the  boat,  turned 
round,  and  from  his  narrow  slits  of  Chinese 
eyes  looked  keenly  upon  his  nephew. 

"Didst  thou  ever  hear  of  a  creature," 
said  he,  "  that  puts  an  iron  ring  around 
his  own  neck?" 

"There  is  no  such  creature  in  all  the 
land  that  the  Great  Wall  borders,"  re- 
plied Chang  Wang. 

Fing  Fang  solemnly  shook  the  pigtail 
which  hung  down  his  back.  Like  many 
of  the  Chinese,  he  had  read  a  great  deal, 
and  was  a  kind  of  philosopher  in  his 
way. 

"  Nephew  Chang  Wang,"  he  observed, 
"  I  know  of  a  creature  (and  he  is  not  far 
off  at  this  moment)  who  is  always  fishing 
for  gain — constantly  catching,  but  never 


THE  IRON  KING.  311 


enjoying.  Avarice — the  love  of  hoard- 
ing— is  the  iron  ring  round  his  neck ;  and 
so  long  as  it  stays  there  he  is  much  like 
one  of  our  trained  cormorants — he  may 
be  clever,  active,  successful,  but  he  is 
only  fishing  for  others." 

I  leave  my  readers  to  guess  whether 
the  sharp  dealer  understood  his  uncle's 
meaning,  or  whether  Chang  Wang  re- 
solved in  future  not  only  to  catch,  but  to 
enjoy.  Fing  Fang's  moral  might  be  good 
enough  for  a  Chinese  heathen,  but  it  does 
not  go  nearly  far  enough  for  an  English 
Christian.  If  a  miser  is  like  a  cormorant 
with  an  iron  ring  round  his  neck,  tbe  man 
or  the  child  who  lives  for  his  own  pleasure 
only,  what  is  he  but  a  greedy  cormorant 
without  the  iron  ring?  Who  would  wish 
to  resemble   a   cormorant   at   all  ?     The 


312  SHORT  STORIES. 


bird  knows  the  enjoyment  of  getting ;  let 
ns  prize  the  richer  enjoyment  of  giving. 
Let  me  close  with  an  English  proverb, 
which  I  prefer  to  the  Chinaman's  para- 
ble,— "  Charity  is  the  truest  epicure  ;  for 
she  eats  with  many  mouths." 


THE  ILL  WIND. 


'T'S  an  ill  wind  that  blaws  naebody 
good,  Master  Harry — we  maun  say 
that,"  observed  old  Ailsie,  Mrs.  Del- 
mar's  Scotch  nurse,  as  she  went  to 
close  the  window,  through  which  rushed 
in  the  furious  blast;  "but  I  hae  a  dear 
laddie  at  sea,  aud  when  I  hear  the  wind 
howl  like  that,  I  think" — 

"  Oh,  shut  the  window,  nurse  !  Quick, 
quick !  or  we'll  have  the  casement  blown 
m !"  cried   Nina.     "  Did    you    ever   hear 

such  a  gust !" 

(313) 


314  SHOET  STOEIES. 


Ailsie  shut  the  window,  but  not  in  time 
to  prevent  some  pictures,  which  the  little 
lady  had  been  sorting,  from  being  scattered 
in  every  direction  over  the  room. 

"  Our  fine  larch  has  been  blown  down 
on  the  lawn,"  cried  Harry,  who  had  saun- 
tered up  to  the  window. 

"  Oh,  what  a  pity  !"  exclaimed  his  sister, 
as  she  went  down  on  her  knees  to  pick  up 
the  pictures.  "  Our  beauty  larch,  that  was 
planted  only  this  spring,  and  that  looked 
so  lovely  with  its  tassels  of  green !  To 
think  of  the  dreadful  wind  rooting  up 
that !  I'm  sure  that  this  at  least  is  an  ill 
wind,  that  blows  nobody  good." 

"  You  should  see  the  mischief  it  has 
done  in  the  wood,"  observed  Harry ; 
"  snapping  off  great  branches  as  if  they 
were  twigs.     The  whole  path  through  the 


THE  ILL  WIND.  315 


wood  is  strewn  with  the  boughs  and  the 
leaves." 

"I  can't  bear  the  fierce  wind,"  ex- 
claimed Nina.  "  When  I  was  ont  half  an 
hour  ago  I  thought  it  would  have  blown 
me  away.  I  really  could  scarcely  keep 
my  feet." 

"  I  could  not  keep  my  cap,"  laughed 
Harry.  "  Off  it  scudded,  whirling  round 
and  round  right  into  the  river,  where  I 
could  watch  it  floating  for  ever  so  long. 
I  shall  never  get  it  again." 

"  Mischievous,  horrid  wind !"  cried  Nina, 
who  had  just  picked  up  the  last  of  her 
pictures. 

"  Oh,  missie,  ye  maunna  speak  against 
the  wind — for  ye  ken  who  sends  it,"  ob- 
served the  old  nurse.  "  It  has  its  work  to 
do  as  we  hae  ours.    Depend    on't,    the 


316  SHORT  STORIES. 


proverb  is  true, '  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blaws 
naebody  good.'  " 

"There's  no  sense  in  that  proverb," 
said  Harry,  bluntly.  "  This  wind  does 
nothing  but  harm.  It  has  snapped  off 
the  head  of  mamma's  beautiful  favorite 
flower  " — 

"  And  smashed  panes  in  her  greenhouse," 
added  Nina.  „ 

It  was  indeed  a  furious  wind  that  was 
blowing  that  evening,  and  as  the  night 
came  on  it  seemed  to  increase.  It  rattled 
the  shutters,  it  shrieked  in  the  chimneys, 
it  tore  off  some  of  the  slates,  and  kept 
the  children  awake  with  its  howling. 
The  storm  lulled,  however,  before  the 
morning  broke ;  and  when  the  sun  had 
risen,  all  was  bright,  calm,  and  serene. 

"What  a  lovely  morning  after  such  a 


THE  ILL  WIND.  317 


stormy  night!"  cried  Nina,  as  with  her 
brother  Harry  she  rambled  in  the  green 
wood,  while  old  Ailsie  followed  behind 
them.  "I  never  felt  the  air  more  sweet 
and  fresh,  and  it  seemed  so  heavy  yester- 
day morning." 

"  Ay,  ay,  the  wind  cleared  the  air,"  ob- 
served Ailsie.  "  It's  an  ill  wind  that  blaws 
naebody  good." 

"Bat  think  of  your  poor  son  at  sea," 
observed  Harry. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  o'  him  when  I 
spake,  Master  Harry.  I  was  thinking 
that  maybe  that  verra  wind  was  filling  the 
sails  o'  his  ship,  and  blawing  him  hame 
all  the  faster,  to  cheer  the  eyes  o'  his 
mither.  It  is  sure  to  be  in  the  right 
quarter  for  someone,  let  it  blaw  from  north, 
south,  east,  or  west." 


318  SHOBT  STORIES. 


"  Why,  there's  little  Ruth  Laurie  just  be- 
fore us,"  cried  Harry,  as  he  turned  a  bend 
in  the  woodland  path.  "  What  a  great 
bundle  of  fagots  she  is  bravely  cany  in  g !" 

"  Let's  ask  after  her  sick  mother," 
said  Nina,  running  up  to  the  orphan 
child,  who  was  well  known  to  the  Delmars. 
Ruth  dwelt  with  her  mother  in  a  very 
small  cottage  near  the  wood ;  and  the 
children  were  allowed  to  visit  the  widow 
in  her  poor  but  respectful  home. 

"  Blessings  on  the  wee  barefooted 
lassie !"  exclaimed  Ailsie  ;  "  I'll  be  bound 
she's  been  up  with  the  lark,  to  gather  up 
the  broken  branches  which  the  wind  has 
stripped  from  the  trees." 

"  That's  a  heavy  bundle  for  you  to  carry, 
Ruth !"  said  Harry ;  "  it  is  almost  as  big 
as  yourself." 


THE  ILL  WIND.  319 


"  I  'shouldn't  mind  carrying  it  were  it 
twice  as  heavy  and  big,"  cried  the  peasant 
child,  looking  up  with  a  bright,  happy 
smile.  "  Coals  be  terrible  dear,  and  weN  e 
not  a  stick  of  wood  left  in  the  shed; 
and  mother,  she  gets  so  chilly  of  an 
evening.  There's  nothing  she  likes  so  well 
as  a  hot  cup  of  tea  and  a  good  warm  fire  ; 
your  dear  mamma  gives  us  the  tea,  and 
you  see  I've  the  wood  for  boiling  the 
water.  Won't  mother  be  glad  when  she 
sees  my  big  fagots ;  and  wasn't  I  pleased 
when  I  heard  the  wind  blowing  last  night, 
for  I  knew  I  should  find  branches  strewn 
about  in  the  morning  !" 

"Ah,"  cried  Harry,  "that  reminds  me 
of  the  proverb,  '  'Tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
nobody  good.' " 

"  Harry,"  whispered   Nina  to  her  bro- 


320  SHORT  STORIES. 


ther,  "don't  you  think  that  you  and  I 
might  help  Kuth  to  fill  her  poor  mother's 
little  wood-shed?" 

"  What !  pick  up  sticks,  and  carry  them 
in  fagots  on  our  backs  ?  How  fanny  that 
would  look !"  exclaimed  Harry. 

"  We  should  be  doing  some  good,"  re- 
plied Nina.  "Don't  you  remember  that 
nurse  said  that  the  wind  has  its  work  to 
do,  as  we  have  ours  ?  If  it's  an  ill  wind 
that  does  nobody  good,  it  must  be  an  ill 
child  that  does  good  to  no  one." 

Merrily  and  heartily  Harry  and  Nina 
set  about  their  labor  of  kindness.  And 
cheerfully,  as  the  children  tripped  along 
with  their  burdens  to  the  poor  woman's 
cottage,  Nina  repeated  her  old  nurse's 
proverb,  "  'Tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no- 
body good." 


